


The Winds of Winter

by targary_n



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Developing Relationship, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Heartbreak, High Fantasy, Love, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/targary_n/pseuds/targary_n
Summary: SEASON 7 REWRITE WITH A FOCUS ON JONERYS!The winds of winter are howling, and dragons have landed on the shores of Westeros for the first time in hundreds of years.Daenerys has landed at Dragonstone to prepare for her taking of the Iron Throne. However, when Tyrion suggests she needs Westerosi allies in order to be successful, they invite Jon Snow to bend the knee.Jon Snow is doing everything he can to prepare the North against the Army of the Dead. While his family was just reunited in Winterfell, they don't want him to travel south to meet Dany.Cersei Lannister is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and sits on the Iron Throne, and she has not intentions of giving it up. She consults her Hand, Qyburn, to come up with a plan to squash Jon and Dany. However, the plan does not sit well with Jaime Lannister, and his loyalty becomes questionable.The Army of the Dead continue to march beyond the Wall, but they are closer now than ever. Most still believe the White Walkers are just legends even though they accept winter is coming. However, little do they know winter is already here.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walder Frey hosts a feast for his family. Samwell discovers something to help Jon at the Citadel.

Walder Frey looked out at his family in the candlelit Great Hall for the feast he had prepared. The room filled with cheerful chatter as he watched from his place at the high table with his young wife next to him. Upon inspection, he grabbed his cup full of wine in front of him as he slammed it down twice on the table. Everyone fell silent instantly as he stood, using the table as a support.

“You're wonder why I brought you all here. After all, we just had a feast,” he began. “Since when does old Walder give us two feasts in a single fortnight?”

The room filled with laughter in agreement as Walder chuckled slightly.

“Well, it's no good being lord of the Riverlands if you can't celebrate with your family. That's what I say!” he rallied.

The Freys cheered gleefully as they slammed their fists on the tables in celebration. He looked towards the servant girls in the corner and snapped his fingers at them to start serving the flasks of wine he had prepared.

“I've gathered every Frey who means a damn thing so I can tell you my plans for this great house now that winter has come. But first, a toast!” he offered.

Various forms of “aye” filled the room as they poured the wine into their cups.

“No more of that Dornish horse piss; this is the finest Arbor gold!” he said. “Proper wine for proper heroes!”

They continued to cheer as Walder stood to face his family.

“Stand together!” he shouted as he stood and raised his glass.

The Freys followed suit by standing in unison as they cheered, “Stand together!”

Walder held his cup up as if he was about to drink it but does not. His wife next to him goes to pick up her glass, but he shakes his head in protest.

“Not you,” he scowled at her. “I'm not wasting good wine on a damn woman.”

She looked from Walder to her glass with sad eyes as she sat it back down.

Walder nodded with content at the sight as he turned his attention back to his family gulping down the wine. “Maybe I'm not the most pleasant man,” he started again. “I'll admit it. But I'm proud of you lot. You're my family, the men who helped me slaughter the Starks at the Red Wedding!”

They all continued to cheer again as Walder watched their celebration with cold eyes.

“Yes, yes. Cheer. Brave men, all of you,” he preached coldly. However, his eyes narrowed as he took a deep breath.

“Butchered a woman pregnant with her babe. Cut the throat of a mother of five. Slaughtered your guests after inviting them into your home,” he spat bitterly. The men in the room shifted uneasily as they stared at their lord. “But you didn't slaughter every one of the Starks.”

Some of the Freys started to groan and clutch their throats as they coughed.

“No, no, that was your mistake,” he explained as he shook his head. “You should have ripped them all out, root and stem.”

Walder continued to watch with a sly smile as the Freys choked and spit up their own blood. They collapsed on tables, knocking over the candles burning, and onto the floor, struggling to breathe.

“Leave one wolf alive and the sheep are never safe,” he said fiercely.

He continued to watch as the Freys died, one by one, until the last one took their last breath. His wife looked at him, completely horrified, but Walder just smiled again. Suddenly, he took a hold of his own face and removed it like a magic trick. 

The girl continued to look at the new person standing in front of them horrified, but Arya Stark just smiled.

“When people ask you what happened here,” Arya began fearlessly to the girl, “tell them the North remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey.”

The girl viciously nodded as Arya stood up to leave. She walked proudly through the Great Hall, now littered with dead bodies of all the Freys, and stared at each one. Taking one last look at her deed, she smiled and exited the Twins, checking one name off her list forever.

** 

Sam had been sitting in the same uncomfortable wooden chair for hours, bent over a book with his head between his hands. It was only yesterday he took the books from the restricted section of the Citadel library, and he needed to read fast before anyone noticed they were missing. _And I need the answer to defeating the White Walkers for Jon. That’s why I was sent here._

Over in the corner, Gilly was holding up a doll to Little Sam, and they both laughed. He envied Gilly’s ability to be able to just sit over there and play with Little Sam; there was nothing more he would rather be doing. _But I have a duty to Jon to find this answer._

“You should really sleep, Sam,” Gilly suggested as Little Sam pulled on her long brown hair.

Sam didn’t even look up from his book. “The dead don't,” he responded bluntly.

He watched Gilly stand up from the corner of his eye and come over to the table with another book in hand.

“Legends of the Long Night,” she read as she opened the large book in wonder.

“The Targaryens used dragonglass to decorate their weapons without even knowing what the First Men used it for!” Sam exclaimed in amazement. _I love knowledge so much._

However, Gilly was not nearly as excited as him, which made his heart sink. He sighed in disappointment as he continued to turn the pages. Eventually, he reached a diagram of a map that made him pause.

“What is it?” Gilly asked in confusion, sensing his sudden shock.

Sam’s eyes went wide. “It's a map of Dragonstone. The Targaryens built their first stronghold there when they invaded Westeros,” he explained as he pointed to a section of the map depicting a cave surrounded by a black mass.

“That's dragonglass?” Gilly questioned, although she already knew the answer.

Sam nodded as his smile grew. “A mountain of it. Beneath the ground. Stannis told me, but I didn't think…” he trailed off in thought. _How could I have been so stupid?_ “This is important,” he said as he nodded his head, “Jon needs to know.”

And with that, he grabbed a quill and began writing as quickly as he could.


	2. DAENERYS I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany arrives on Dragonstone. A shadowy figure appears in her dreams.

Dany’s heart was beating out of her chest as the rowboat came ashore on the land she fought so hard to get to. They finally made it to Dragonstone, the place of her birth, where her family left Westeros all those years ago. She stepped out of the wooden boat and walked ahead of Tyrion, Missandei, Grey Worm and Varys who accompanied her.

Overwhelmed with emotion, she knelt down and pressed her palm against the sand. Dany closed her eyes as she felt her homeland for the first time that she could remember. She stared at the large, black castle ahead of them as she began to walk further down the beach. The others followed her as they all climbed the steps and approached a gate flanked by two statues of dragon heads. Grey Worm and another Unsullied approached the gate and pushed it open to reveal a staircase up to the castle that was in the shape of a dragon tail.

She looked up to admire the work of her ancestors; the massive Stone Drum tower hung overhead as the central keep of Dragonstone. Dany remembered how Viserys would always tell her it was naked for the booming and rumbling sounds that could be heard during storms. As they reached the top of the walkway, she entered the foyer of the main keep as a tapestry bearing the stag sigil of House Baratheon hung off the wall to the side. Dany made a face as she tore the sign of the House that caused her family to lose everything. Walking deeper into the castle, they went through another dragon tail archway as her eyes set on something that made her heart swell: the throne. Tyrion and the rest of them followed her into the room as she held back tears. _I made it. I finally made it._ She thought for a moment of Viserys and how he promised her they would come home. _And now I’m here brother. I made it for both of us._

Although she had an overwhelming urge to sit down on the dragonglass-formed throne, she forced herself to walk past it to the spiral staircase behind it. Dany climbed the stairs as she heard the sound of footsteps echoing against the walls of her council following her. Eventually, she reached the top, which led to the Chamber of the Painted Table.

The room was round with bare black walls that gave it an underwhelming feel. However, the Painted Table in the center was magnificent enough to overcome it; it was carved and painted in the form of a detailed map of Westeros. _This was where Aegon the Conqueror planned his invasion of Westeros hundreds of years ago. And now the last Targaryen stands to plan my invasion to take it back for us._ She walked to the head of the table’s raised seat that displayed the island of Dragonstone in front of it. Dany sat down as she looked over the entire map and ran her fingers over it as it to make sure it was real. Tyrion walked across from her and stared at the dragon carvings on the stone walls as clouds began forming in the sky. Everyone turned to look at her as Dany sat down in the seat, and she smiled.

“Shall we begin?”

They had all been standing around the Chamber of the Painted table for hours as a storm blew in. The rain came crashing down against the side of the stone castle as thunder cracked from overhead.

“On a night like this, you came into the world,” Tyrion said with a glass of wine in his hand while looking out the window at the violet sea below them.

“I remember that storm,” Varys remembered. “All the dogs in King's Landing howled through the night.”

Daenerys pursed her lips. “I wish I could remember it.”

And she meant it too. She turned away and walked back to the table sadly as she stared at the map.

“I always thought this would be a homecoming,” she confessed aloud. She looked up at her advisors and shook her head as she said, “It doesn't feel like home.”

Tyrion looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “We won't stay on Dragonstone for long,” he tried to comfort her.

“Good,” she said bluntly. _When I get my throne, that will feel like home. All those years in exile will disappear as I achieved what I was born to do._ She looked down at the figurines representing the various Houses of Westeros.

“Not so many lions,” she pointed out as she took the Lannister lion and examined it. The red and gold markings covering it made her blood boil. _And I will slaughter them all._

“Cersei controls fewer than half the Seven Kingdoms,” Varys exclaimed. “The lords of Westeros despise her. Even before your arrival, they plotted against her. Now—

“They cry out for their true queen? They drink secret toasts to my health?” Dany snorted.

She walked over to Varys as she stared at him with those violet eyes. “People used to tell my brother that sort of thing, and he was stupid enough to believe them,” she whispered venomously.

Dany picked up a dragon figurine from the table and examined that one as well. _Much better._ “If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back, he'd have invaded King's Landing already.”

Tyrion shrugged. “Conquering Westeros would be easy for you. But you're not here to be queen of the ashes,” he reminded her seriously.

Dany put down the figure as she knew Tyrion was right. _Even if I do want to burn everyone who stole my life from me. The innocents are far more important because I know how it feels to be abused and homeless._

“No,” Dany admitted.

“We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse,” Tyrion began to propose. “If the great houses support your claim against Cersei, the game is won. With the Tyrell army and the Dornish on our side, we have powerful allies in the south.”

Dany looked from Tyrion to Varys. “I never properly thanked you for that.”

Varys blushed. “They joined our side, my queen, because they believe in you. Just as I do.”

She smiled as she looked down at the map again.

“Well, we have been standing here for quite some time. It has been a long journey, we shall continue this in the morning,” Dany said, trying to hide her own tiredness. _I feel so exhausted I want to pass out._

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Varys smiled.

Dany smiled back. “Thank you, both of you,” she gestured to Varys and Tyrion. “Without you two, I would be lost in Essos. All of my accomplishments are mainly because of you advising me.”

Tyrion smiled as he blinked away tears from his eyes.

Dany met his gaze with grateful eyes. “Goodnight,” Dany said as she exited.

She walked with Grey Worm and Missandei to the lord’s chambers to sleep. She thanked them and sat down on her bed. As she laid down, she stared at the dragon cravings on the ceiling and cold, stone walls; admiring their every twist and turn. The tails would extend down to make the door archways and stairways. _Nothing could be more beautiful._

Missandei had lit her a fire for it was much colder than they were used to over in Essos. She rolled over to stare into the flames; _this is my home. I was born here, but it doesn’t feel like home. Nothing feels like home._

She thought upon arrival that she would feel an instant connection with the place, that connection she was missing for so many years. However, when her boots touched the sand, she felt like a stranger. _A stranger in a strange land._

Dany felt tears starting to stream down her face as she mourned the childhood she never had. _My mother died here giving birth to me in this castle. Our home was stripped from us._ These anxious thoughts swirled around her head as she craved for someone’s love and touch to comfort her. A love that she never had after Drogo was stolen from her. _Someone who loves me for me, not for my dragons or the fact they bought me. Just as… Dany._ She doubted anyone in the world could ever understand her situation as she began another sleepless night tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep.

Finally, in the midnight black with the sound of the rain pounding against the walls, she drifted off slowly. For she always loved to sleep, as it was the only time when her loneliness and sadness would escape her, although she wasn’t naïve enough to believe it wouldn’t come back to her when she woke.

That night, she dreamt the same dream she always had; she was in King’s Landing approaching the Iron Throne. Snow was lightly falling from the broken ceiling as blue roses grew from the ground as she walked forward, where a man was standing there petting Drogon. Dany was attracted to him, and she didn’t know why. She could never see his face, but she turned towards him as she tucked a silver curl behind her ear anyways.

“Who are you?” she whispered as she looked upon the mystery man.

But he never answered nor looked at her. He just kept stroking the dragon’s snout as blue roses grew around him. When Dany imagined her lover, he was always younger and comelier, though his face remained a shifting shadow.

_A shadow that I long to see._


	3. DAENERYS II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany receives an unknown visitor.

The next morning, Dany rolled over to find herself sleeping alone again. She missed having the comfort of Daario; even though she didn’t love him, he was still there to comfort her. _And now I’m alone in a strange land with no one to keep me warm._ Her heart almost hurt with how badly she craved a lover’s touch — but a true one, not just for political or lustful desires. Dany thought about the shadow man from her dreams; _could he be real? Why does he always block my throne?_

With a sigh, she stood up and slipped herself into the robe Missandei had laid out for her. A bath had been prepared for her as she stepped into the warm water. She knew the heat would make others flinch, but not her. _Not a dragon._

Missandei braided her hair in silence as Dany cleaned herself. After she was done, she wrapped a towel around herself and proceeded to get dressed for the day. Her handmaiden explained there was a Red Priestess here to see her that was waiting in the throne room, and Dany reluctantly nodded. _I just wanted a day to myself to get used to this strange land._

However, she knew she had the duty of the Queen to meet the woman. Therefore, Dany followed Missandei in as she looked briefly at the Red Priestess standing in the middle of the throne room, waiting for her. Varys, Tyrion, and Grey Worm stood at the base of the throne as Dany sat down on it for the first time. A chill went down her spine as she rested her palms firmly against the chair’s arms. _The throne of my ancestors._

Missandei cleared her voice as everyone bowed. “You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful queen of the Andals and the First Men, protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, and the Mother of Dragons,” she announced firmly, her strong words echoing off the walls.

Melisandre bowed in respect as she said, “Queen Daenerys, I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged and branded. It is an honor to meet the Breaker of Chains.”

Dany smiled and motioned for the priestess to stand up. “The Red Priests helped bring peace to Meereen. You are very welcome here,” she assured the woman kindly. “What is your name?”

“I am called Melisandre,” she answered with a small smile.

Varys stepped forward; his face full of suspicion as he looked up at Dany. “She once served another who wanted the Iron Throne,” he informed her before turning back to face Melisandre. “It didn't end well for Stannis Baratheon, did it?”

The woman looked taken back. “No, it didn't,” she confessed honestly.

For a moment, brief anger flashed through Dany like a comet at the sound of the Baratheon name. _But it’s over. The Baratheons are dead; I am the true Queen._

Dany’s eyes narrowed. “So why are you here?”

“Because I believe you have an important role to play in the wars to come.”

“Wars to come?” Dany snickered. “The only war I will be fighting will be Cersei Lannister to take the Iron Throne back that she stole from me.”

“I have seen in the flames more—”

“The Lord of Light doesn't have many followers in Westeros, does he?” Dany interrupted unapologetically.

Melisandre took a deep breath. “Not yet,” she answered. “But even those who don't worship the Lord can serve his cause.”

“And what exactly does your Lord expect from me?” she asked with slight sarcasm in her voice. Dany was never one for gods, she believed in herself.

Melisandre straightened as she looked seriously into Dany’s violet eyes. “The Long Night is coming, Your Grace. Meri kīvio dārilaros ōz maghagon kostas.”

Dany furrowed her eyebrows at the prophecy. “The prince who was promised will bring the dawn,” she translated before shaking her head in annoyance. “I am afraid I'm not a prince.”

“Your Grace, forgive me, but your translation is not quite accurate,” Missandei suddenly interrupted. Dany turned to her and motioned to continue. _What was wrong with my translation?_ “That noun has no gender in High Valyrian, so the proper translation for that prophecy would be the prince or _princess_ who was promised will bring the dawn.”

Melisandre nodded happily in return while Dany smiled. _I like the sound of that._

“Doesn't really roll off the tongue, does it?” Tyrion suddenly laughed.

Dany slightly chuckled as well. “No, but I like it better,” she admitted. She turned back to the Red Priestess as she asked, “And you believe this prophecy refers to me?”

Melisandre made a face. “Prophecies are dangerous things,” she said reluctantly.

Dany slightly frowned in disappointment with her answer, but the woman wasn’t done.

“However,” she continued, “I believe you have a role to play, as does another. The King in the North, Jon Snow.”

Tyrion choked on his wine as he gagged in surprise, “Jon Snow? You mean Ned Stark's bastard?”

Dany made a face. “You know him?” _Who is this Jon Snow? Why had Tyrion never mentioned him before? Is he another threat to my rule?_

“I traveled with him to the Wall when he joined the Night's Watch,” he explained in amazement. “How could he be King in the North if he became a man of the Night’s Watch? That vow is for life!”

Melisandre just smiled. “As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch he allowed the Wildlings south of the Wall to protect them from great danger,” she answered, completely ignoring the original question.

However, Dany was too interested in this _Jon Snow_ and his claim as a “king” then matters of an organization she only heard stories of.

“And why do you think the Lord of Light singled out this Jon Snow aside from the visions you've seen in the flames, that is?” Varys asked before Dany could.

Dany turned her attention to Melisandre, eagerly awaiting her answer.

“As King in the North he has united those Wildlings with the northern houses so together they may face their common enemy,” she explained.

“And what exactly is that common enemy?” Dany asked suspiciously.

Melisandre smiled again. _She’s avoiding my question._ “Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you things that have happened to him, the things that he has seen with his own eyes.”

_Not a chance in seven hells. I will not invite a stranger onto the land I just took back from me just to have it taken away again by some other king. I want the Iron Throne, nothing more._

However, sensing her anguish, Tyrion spoke up in defense, “I can't speak to prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow and I trusted him. His father was one of the most honorable men the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen, and he raised Jon to be the same. And I also happen to be an excellent judge of character.”

Dany smiled at Tyrion’s kind words, but he wasn’t finished.

“If he truly does rule the North, he would make a valuable ally. The Lannisters executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do,” he explained carefully. “I think it’s worth hearing what the boy has to say, especially since we need allies. _Powerful_ allies. And having the North on our side would take care of almost all parts of the kingdoms; Cersei would stand no chance.”

_Perhaps Tyrion has a point._

She tossed the idea around in her mind as everyone in the room waited for his decision. _If he is as good as Tyrion says he is, I have nothing to lose by sending him an invitation. And I have no reason not to trust Tyrion’s judgements._

Therefore, after a few moments, she nodded. “Very well. Send a raven north. Tell Jon Snow that his Queen invites him to come to Dragonstone — _and bend the knee_ ,” she emphasized to everyone.

Melisandre smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Dany smiled in return as she watched her council exit the throne room to send the raven. _I look forward to meeting this Jon Snow and what he has to offer me._


	4. ARYA I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya encounters two old friends.

Arya couldn’t even remember how long she had been riding since murdering the Freys, but she only knew one mission: killing Cersei. She was on the Kingsroad to head South to King’s Landing to kill the new queen when she finally reached the Crossroads. The smell of fresh food filled her nose from the Inn at the Crossroads as her mouth watered in desire. She couldn’t even remember the last time she ate a proper meal, and although she wanted to make it to the Red Keep as soon as possible, she decided to take a break anyways.

She tied her horse to a nearby post before entering the inn for the first time in ages. It was smaller than she remembered, but it was crowded as ever. She heard various conversations going as she sat down at an empty wooden table. Behind her, she could hear two old men talking when suddenly something caught her attention.

“Did you hear about the Freys?” one man asked. Arya’s ears perked up as she began eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Aye. What do you think killed them?” the friend responded.

“I heard it was one of Walder’s jealous sons. Wanted to take revenge on his father.”

Arya laughed to herself. _No, but they were in a pie._

“I heard it was a ghost. They say it changed faces!”

She heard the man punch the other’s arm. “Ghosts aren’t real, you dumb fuck.”

Arya laughed again as she continued to look around the tavern. She began staring at an arbitrary point on the wall as a familiar voice called to her.

“Arry!”

_No one has called me that since…_

She looked up in surprise to find the face of a friend smiling down at her. “Hot Pie?” she asked, surprised.

“Hello,” he said shyly. He was carrying a tray of food, presumably for some tables in the restaurant, but she was too excited to see a familiar face.

“Sit down!” she invited. “Who’s that for?”

“Oh— ” he started, but Arya had already taken a steaming pot pie from it. 

She grabbed the knife next to her and stabbed the pie to break it open to begin eating. The noise of the noise made Hot Pie jump slightly, but Arya didn’t care. _It feels so good to have real food for the first time in months._

She slightly moaned from finally be quenching her hunger before looking up to her old friend. “This is good,” she insisted honestly. _And it really is. He’s gotten much better._

Hot Pie smiled. “You think so?” he asked excitedly.

Arya nodded as she turned her attention back down to eating.

“The secret is browning the butter before making the dough,” he explained. “Most people don't do that because it takes up too much time.”

Arya bit her lip and looked off into the distance. _Perhaps I should’ve done that with Walder Frey’s sons._ “I didn't do that.”

Hot Pie furrowed his eyebrows. “You've been making pies?” he laughed.

_Not this kind._ “One or two,” she responded frankly.

Hot Pie studied her carefully sensing something had changed about her. Arya tried to smile, but the thoughts of murdering the Freys floated around in her mind. She couldn’t help smirking every time she thought about it. _The North Remembered._

Trying to keep the conversation going, he expressed, “I can't believe you're here. Did you meet the big lady?”

Arya made a face. “Big lady?”

“The lady knight,” he explained. “I figured she was a knight because she had armor on. She was looking for your sister, but I told her about you. Did she ever find you?”

_Brienne of Tarth._

“She found me,” she responded frankly. She remembered how Brienne desperately wanted to bring her back to Winterfell, but she refused. _And her fight with Sandor Clegane over me… the only person I knew to ever beat him._ But she didn’t want any of their protection; she wanted to go to Braavos. _And look where that got me._

Arya sensed Hot Pie staring at her with concerned eyes as she met his gaze. “What happened to you Arry?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

_Too much._

She continued to look down at her food as she ignored his question. _I don’t feel like explaining the past couple hellish years right now. I just need to finish what I started; to kill Cersei._

“You got any ale?” she asked to change the subject.

He nodded slightly and went to reach for the pitcher on the tray, but Arya saw it first. She reached over her friend to grab it herself and started pouring a full cup before taking a sip. _Gods it feels good to taste the burn of the alcohol._

“Where are you heading?” Hot Pie asked in a desperate attempt to keep the conversation from dying.

“King's Landing.”

“Why?”

Arya finally put down her mug as she stated, “I heard Cersei's queen now.”

He gave a slight laugh. “I heard she blew up the Great Sept with wildfire. Killed the Queen and everything. That must have been something to see — those green flames. BOOM!” he said as he mimicked an explosion with his hands.

_The Great Sept of Baelor? She really is a sinister bitch._

Arya stared off at an arbitrary point in the wall again as she nodded.

“I can't believe someone could do that,” he said honestly.

_How naïve_

“Cersei would do that,” she spat back to give him a reality check. _She also killed almost my entire family and abused my sister. She could do anything._

He shrugged in agreement. “I thought you'd be heading for Winterfell,” he stated with a surprised tone.

Arya furrowed her eyebrows. “Why would I go there? The Boltons have it.” _Didn’t he know they betrayed my family? Conspired to kill my family to take North… traitors. They’re on the list too._

“No!” he exclaimed. “The Boltons are dead!”

Arya’s heart stopped. _WHAT?_

She dropped her food as she looked at Hot Pie with wide eyes. “What?” she asked as calmly as possible. _Even though I feel like internally screaming._

He looked at her like she had five heads. “Jon Snow came down from Castle Black with a Wildling army and won the Battle of the Bastards. He's King in the North now,” he stated quite frankly.

_JON?! In Winterfell?! How did he leave the Night’s Watch? What was he doing with Wildlings? He’s a KING? Since fucking when? How did I not know about this?!_

It was simply too much to process. She shook her head in disbelief. “You're lying.”

“Why would I lie about that? He's your brother right?”

_Maybe he is right. And if he is… there is no way I can go to King’s Landing now. I need to see Jon._

So, she decided she needed to get to Winterfell as soon as possible, starting with getting out of this fucking inn.

“Thanks for the pie,” she said as she licked her fingers clean as she gathered her things to leave.

She reached to her side to bring out the little bag of gold she had. However, before she could start opening the pouch, Hot Pie grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Friends don't pay,” he said with a smile. _Damn, I actually have missed this fat boy._

Arya smiled back as she stood to leave.

“I still can't believe I thought you were a boy. You're pretty!” he complimented her.

She shifted uneasily. _Pretty? No, that was Sansa. I’m far from pretty… maybe he needs glasses._

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she began to walk past him. However, she turned around to put her hand on his wide arm quickly. “Take care of yourself, Hot Pie. Try not to get killed.”

He let out a soft laugh. “No, I won't. I'm like you, Arry. I'm a survivor,” he said confidently.

_No, Hot Pie. You’re not like me. And be thankful you aren’t. Few people are like me…_

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and just smiled as she turned to leave.

Once she was outside, she gathered her horse and took one last look at the path to King’s Landing before deciding to head North for Winterfell. _I can’t wait to see Jon._

She rode for as long as she could before the darkness of night fell across the land. Arya set up a small fire and tied her horse to a tree before finally laying down to sleep. Her back was killing her from all the riding she had been doing ever since getting off the boat from Braavos, but it was worth it to see Jon. _How did he leave the Night’s Watch? Will he still recognize me?_

Just like when she was younger and traveling with the Hound, sometimes she did not want to wake at all for her dreams were so exquisite. She has dreamt of wolves most every night for years, and she never got tired of it. In it, she was surrounded by a great pack of wolves, with her being the biggest, strongest, faster. When she bared her teeth even men would run from her, her belly was never empty long, and her fur kept her warm even when the wind was blowing cold. And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and terrible and hers. They would never leave her. Not like the family she had in real life. _Although they left unwillingly._

However, the dream abruptly ended that night when she was woken by her horse winning in the corner. As she opened her eyes to see what was wrong, she was met with a pair of glowing gold eyes inches away from her face. _Eyes that were just in my dream._

Arya smiled as she immediately recognized the face.

“Nymeria!” Arya said as she reached to pet her old direwolf’s face. But the grey wolf backed away and bared her teeth, and Arya’s heart sank.

“Nymeria, it's me, Arya. I'm heading north, girl, back to Winterfell. I'm finally going home,” she said calmly. After a few moments, the wolf relaxed and stepped towards her. The smile returned to Arya’s face as she stroked the face of her once best companion.

“Come with me,” she begged with a little desperation in her voice. _Stay with me Nymeria. Don’t leave again._

However, the smaller wolves around them started growling, and Arya almost forgot they were there.

“Is this your pack?” Arya asked the wolf, and Nymeria bowed her head as if to say yes. Arya’s heart sank again. _She doesn’t want to leave her pack._

“Take them with us,” she suggested. _I’m sure Jon wouldn’t mind._ “They can stay at Winterfell with us. We can feed them and provide them with shelter.”

Arya swore Nymeria’s eyes lit up as if she was smiling. The wolf licked her face and Arya chuckled. She looked to the sky and saw the beginnings of the sunrise with the light orange colors.

“Shall we start?” she asked the pack as she untied her horse. The wolves howled in agreement as Arya smiled widely again. She kicked her horse and it started walking with Nymeria right beside them. Hundreds of wolves began to follow them through the path in the woods. Arya let out a breath of surprise, but she was not scared.

_I am a wolf just as them._

The days passed slowly as the journey North continued. They traveled from sunrise to sunset every day, and Arya kept faith in herself by just imagining being with her family again.

_After all these years, reunited._

Eventually, they went up a familiar path, and she knew they were close. That was when she saw it: the stone walls of Winterfell. Arya’s heart swelled at just the sight of her home as she forced herself to hold back tears. She felt so many emotions at once: love, heartache, mourning, anger, vengeance, but most of all, happiness. And it was the perfect, tranquil moment away from all the madness they’ve been facing.

The wolves just stared at her and Nymeria as they walked ahead towards the gates slowly. She couldn’t hide the smile on her face; no, not anymore. She was _home._

And no one could ever take it away from her again.


	5. JON I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets with the northern lords to discuss the White Walkers. Two ravens come in from the Citadel and Dragonstone.

Jon caressed his knuckles nervously as he looked out at the northern lord’s filling in the Great Hall in front of him. He was at the high table along with Sansa and Davos at his sides for his first major speech as King in the North. He caught the eye of Petyr Baelish as he scanned the crowd, and his stomach dropped. _There’s something about that man that isn’t right._ Beside Littlefinger was Brienne of Tarth, Podrick, and Tormund all waiting for him to begin. After a few moments once the last man sat down, Jon stood up and silence rippled through the hall.

He cleared his throat. “Great northern lords, I would like to welcome you all to Winterfell. Today, we must discuss very important matters regarding our safety and overall survival of our people,” Jon began loudly.

Chatter rose around the room discussing the threat of the White Walkers, and Jon looked to Davos for support. _I need to command the room better._

“I want every northern maester to scour their records for any mention of dragonglass,” he shouted in order to gain everyone’s attention. The room silenced again, and Jon stood up taller. _I can do this. I’m King in the North now._

“Dragonglass kills White Walkers. It's more valuable to us now than gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons from it. Everyone aged 10 to 60 will drill daily with spears, pikes, bow and arrow,” he commanded. “It's about time we taught these boys of summer how to fight!” Lord Glover interrupted with a chuckle. The northern lords laughed with him, and Jon smiled with amusement. _They’re forgetting the other half of the population, however._

“Not just the boys,” Jon clarified. He caught Brienne of Tarth looking up at him with surprise and excitement. _She gets it._

“We can't defend the North if only half the population is fighting,” Jon explained.

Brienne smiled, but not everyone else was as enthusiastic.

“You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughter's hand?” Lord Glover challenged as he stood.

Lady Lyanna Mormont stood up in response. “I don't plan on knitting by the fire while men fight for me,” she spat.

Jon smiled. _I love the fire inside her. She reminds me of Arya._ Suddenly, his heart filled with sadness at the thought of his beloved sibling.

However, he was slapped back into reality with Lyanna’s feisty voice still booming, “I might be small, Lord Glover, and I might be a girl, but I am every bit as much a Northerner as you.”

Lord Glover looked taken back. “Indeed, you are, my lady. No one has questioned—”

“And I don't need your permission to defend the North,” she interrupted darkly.

Davos smiled at Lyanna’s remarks while the little warrior turned to Jon.

“We'll begin training every man, woman, boy, and girl on Bear Island,” she said confidently with a nod.

The men of House Mormont began pounding on the wooden tables while they shouted in agreement. Lord Glover looked over briefly in surprise by everyone’s reactions, but then nodded.

“We will as well,” Lord Glover confirmed.

Lady Mormont and Lord Glover gave each other acknowledging glances, and Jon nodded.

_Good. We don’t have the power to fight amongst each other._

Jon cleared his throat again. “While we're preparing for attack, we need to shore up our defenses. The only thing standing between us and the Army of the Dead is the Wall and the Wall hasn't been properly manned in centuries,” began carefully. “And I'm not the king of the Free Folk.”

He looked at Tormund while his friend turned to him with a surprised look on his face. _I can’t tell if he wants to kill or thank me._

“But if we're going to survive this winter together…” Jon trailed off fiercely.

But Tormund grunted and stood up to face him.

“So, you want us to man the castles for you?” he challenged.

The Free Folk murmured amongst themselves angrily as Sansa flashed him a look of concern. _They’re just being tough. They will do it._

“Last time we saw the Night King was at Hardhome. The closest castle to Hardhome is Eastwatch-by-the-Sea,” he reminded him. _And what a battle that was._

Tormund’s face softened as he nodded. “Then that's where I'll go,” he promised enthusiastically. He turned to his men before bursting out laughing. “Looks like we're the Night's Watch now!”

The Free Folk laughed and slammed their fists on the table in celebration as Tormund sat down again. Jon smiled with amusement again at their reactions, but deep down he let out a sigh of relief. _Thank the gods._

“If they breach the wall, the first two castles in their path are Last Hearth and Karhold,” Jon explained.

Lord Royce stood and faced Jon. “The Umbers and the Karstarks betrayed the North,” he sneered as he looked in those House’s directions. “Their castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing!”

_Shit._

However, before he could come up with a response, Sansa saved him.

“The castles committed no crimes. And we need every fortress we have for the war to come,” she began to the men. She then turned to Jon as she suggested, “We should give the Last Hearth and Karhold to new families, loyal families who supported us against Ramsay.”

“AYE!” the men cheered in agreement.

At first, Jon liked the proposal. _But I’m King in the North now, and it’s not just to strip away the homes of people loyal to House Stark for centuries. My father and Robb would never do this, so neither can I._

“The Umbers and the Karstarks have fought beside the Starks for centuries. They've kept faith for generation after generation,” he persisted.

Sansa glared at him. “And then they broke faith,” she reminded him.

_Gods, she’s feisty._

Jon could feel the anger boiling up inside him at the fact his little sister was scolding him in front of all the northern lords.

“I'm not going to strip these families of their ancestral homes because of the crimes of a few reckless sons!” Jon said with passion, his voice rising in frustration. He could feel everyone’s eyes fall to them as Sansa narrowed her eyes.

“So, there's no punishment for treason and no reward for loyalty?” she challenged darkly.

The hall went completely silent as Jon glared at his sister with sinister eyes. _If she was a man, I would punch her in the face right now for undermining me. But she’s my sister, and I need to calm down._

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to get his temper back under control. “The punishment for treason is death. Smalljon Umber died on the field of battle. Harald Karstark died on the field of battle,” he spat.

But Sansa wasn’t about to back down. “They died fighting for Ramsay. Give the castles to the families of the men who died fighting for you,” she emphasized.

The men chattered and pounded the tables. _I’m losing this argument to my fucking sister in front of fucking everyone._ It took everything in him to hold himself back from rolling his eyes and screaming at her until he was blue in the face. _But that’s not me. I’m better than this._

“When I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch I executed men who betrayed me,” he began as calmly as he could to the audience. “I executed men who refused to follow orders. My father always said, ‘The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword,’ and I have tried to live by those words. But I will not punish a son for his father's sins, and I will not take a family home away from a family it has belonged to for centuries!”

He looked at Lord Royce and then to Sansa. “That is my decision, and my decision is final,” he hissed.

Jon continued to glare at Sansa until she turned away, rolling her eyes in the process.

Despite being annoyed, Jon turned again to face the crowd. “Ned Umber. Alys Karstark.”

A little boy and a pre-teenage girl stood up shakily. Jon motioned for them to step forward, and they made their way to the aisle facing the high table where he sat.

“For centuries, our families fought side by side on the battlefield,” Jon began to the two kids. “I ask you to pledge your loyalty once again to House Stark, to serve as our bannermen and come to our aid whenever called upon.”

They unsheathed their swords and kneeled down in front of him to pledge. _That didn’t take much convincing._ He felt Sansa’s cold eyes staring at him as he continued the ceremony.

“Stand,” he ordered.

They stood in response.

“Yesterday's wars don't matter anymore,” he boomed. “The North needs to band together, all the living north. Will you stand beside me, Ned and Alys, now and always?”

“NOW AND ALWAYS!” they shouted.

Jon nodded, and the room filled with cheers and applause in support.

A breeze went by his side as he turned to see Sansa’s red hair storming out of the hall. He exchanged a look with Davos as he stood to go after his sister. The men were all engaged in conversation at this point that they didn’t seem to notice their king’s sudden departure.

He picked his step up to a run, in order to catch her along the walkway. “SANSA!” he called after her.

She kept walking without hesitation, and with a groan, Jon followed after her. “Sansa, I am your king, and I demand you to stop!”

Sansa suddenly stopped walking, and Jon walked past before turning to face her.

“You are my sister, but I am king now,” he said breathlessly.

She gave him an icy glare. “Will you start wearing a crown?” she sneered.

_She’s really pushing me right now._

But he let out a deep breath to control his anger again. “When you question my decisions in front of the other lords and ladies, you undermine me,” he explained carefully.

“So, I can't question your decisions anymore?” she challenged.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Of course, you can, but—”

“Joffrey never let anyone question his authority,” she spat. “You think he was a good king?”

Jon felt like he got stabbed in the heart again. _What? How could she even say that?_

“Do you think I'm Joffrey?” he asked honestly. _I don’t know if I want to know the answer._

Her face softened. “You're as far from Joffrey as anyone I've ever met.”

Jon nodded. “Thank you.”

He stared out in the courtyard below where some of the boys were practicing archery. It reminded him of how he used to teach Bran when he was younger. _How much we’ve changed._

“You're good at this, you know,” she whispered gently.

“At what?” Jon asked, not taking his eyes off the kids below.

“At ruling.”

Jon sighed before shaking his head. “No.”

“You are,” she emphasized as she grabbed his arm. “They respect you, they really do, but you have to—”

_But._

He started laughing at her remark.

“Why are you laughing?” Sansa asked, obviously confused.

Jon finally turned his body around to face her again. “What did father used to say? Everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” He began laughing even harder at the fond memory. _Gods I miss him._

Sansa made a face. “He never said that to me.”

He smiled. “No,” he shook his head. “No, he never cursed in front of his girls.”

She rolled her eyes. “Because he was trying to protect us. He never wanted us to see how dirty the world really is, but father couldn't protect me,” she explained as her expression turned dark. “And neither can you, so stop trying.”

Jon studied her face for a moment before nodding. “Alright,” he agreed. “I'll stop trying to protect you and you stop trying to undermine me.”

“I'm not trying to undermine you!” she emphasized.

Jon rolled his eyes and looked out at the yard again. However, Sansa grabbed his arm and spun him around to force him to look at her.

“You have to be smarter than father,” she insisted. “You need to be smarter than Robb. I loved them, I miss them, but they made stupid mistakes, and they both lost their heads for it.”

“And how should I be smarter? By listening to you?” he asked sarcastically, yet desperately.

Sansa pursed her lips before shaking her head. “Would that be so terrible?”

Jon let out a small laugh as he shared a look with his sister. However, the sweet moment was cut short when he heard footprints behind them.

“Your Grace,” an old man’s voice croaked.

Jon and Sansa turned to see Maester Wolkan approaching them.

“Maester Wolkan!” Jon expressed, surprised. “What can we do for you?”

“Two ravens, Your Grace. One from the Citadel, the other from Dragonstone.”

“Dragonstone?” Sansa asked as Jon took the scrolls.

_What could they want in Dragonstone? Who’s even living there now that Stannis is gone?_

He unraveled the first raven and saw it was the one from the Citadel. _Sam._ He read:

_Jon, there is a mountain of dragonglass under Dragonstone according to the books here. We can mine it to make weapons like the First Men. Thought it could help against the White Walkers._

“Jon, what does it say?” Sansa asked desperately as she went to reach for the scroll.

However, he just stared down at it in disbelief. “It’s Sam… he said there is a mountain of dragonglass under Dragonstone. We can use it to forge weapons…” he whispered.

“Give it to me,” Sansa said aggressively as she snatched the scroll out of his hands.

Jon watched her eyes widen as she read.

“T-This could be the key to winning the war,” Sansa said in amazement.

“Yes,” Jon said. “However, we have another problem.”

“And what is that?”

Jon gulped as he held up the second scroll. “It is the sigil of House Targaryen,” he said, pointing to the unbroken three-headed dragon wax stamp on the parchment.

“Open it.”

Jon carefully unraveled the delicate scroll as he began to read aloud, “Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, and the Mother of Dragons is pleased to invite you to Dragonstone to bend the knee. Our Queen has arrived with the Dothraki horde, legion of Unsullied, and three dragons to take back what was stolen from House Targaryen. The Seven Kingdoms will bleed as long as Cersei sits on the Iron Throne. Join us. Together we can end her tyranny. Sincerely Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the Queen.”

_This woman sounds so fucking accomplished._

“Do you think it's really Tyrion? It could be someone trying to lure you into a trap,” Sansa questioned.

_Oh, it’s definitely Tyrion._

Jon smirked. “Read the last bit.”

Sansa made a face as he handed her the scroll. “‘All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes,’” she quoted as she looked from the paper to Hon. “What does that even mean?”

He laughed. “It's something he said to me the first night we met. Only I would know that, so he included it to make sure I knew it was really him and _not_ what you just suggested,” he answered confidently. “But you know him better than any of us. What do you think?”

Sansa shrugged. “Tyrion is not like the other Lannisters. He was always kind to me, but it's too great a risk. “‘The Seven Kingdoms will bleed as long as Cersei sits on the Iron Throne. Join us. Together we can end her tyranny.’”

“Sounds like quite the charmer!” another voice said from behind. Jon turned to see Davos walking towards them with a smile on his face. “Of course, the casual mention of a Dothraki horde, a legion of Unsullied and three dragons, a bit less charming.”

He shrugged as Jon laughed nervously. However, a strange expression washed over Davos’ face that he couldn’t identify.

“What?” Jon asked curiously.

Davos blinked a few times as if to better organize his thoughts. “Fire kills Whites, you told me,” he started.

Jon nodded. _Where was this going?_

“What breathes fire?” he said with wide eyes.

Sansa raised her eyebrows. “You're not actually suggesting Jon meet with her?” she challenged in disbelief.

“No,” Davos admitted, “too dangerous.”

But Jon sensed there was more to that thought process. “But?”

Davos smiled slightly. “But,” he began again, “f the Army of the Dead makes it passed the Wall, do we have enough men to fight them?”

_No, definitely not._

Jon just gazed back out to the courtyard to watch the archery practice.

_Oh, how I wish I could just be a boy again and practicing with them. Back when I wasn’t King in. the North._

But he knew he had other duties now. Far more important duties. Duties that he never dreamt of having been just a bastard. And that involved possibly going to Dragonstone to meet the mysterious Dragon Queen.

_I guess I should go meet this Daenerys Targaryen and see what she has to offer me._


	6. SANSA I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya returns home to Winterfell.

Sansa had been sitting by her bedroom window sewing as she used to when she was younger. However, it was different now. _Too much has happened. I’m not that same little girl anymore. My patterns aren’t as clean and pretty, and my needles are used and dirty._

However, the smell of burning cedar filled the air from the fire, which gave Sansa a sense of comfort. Ever since they won back Winterfell from the Bolton’s, it felt strange to her. Every room reminded her of the abuse she suffered at the hands of Ramsay. The nightmares were endless; she’d wake up every night screaming at him ripping her wedding dress off or seeing little Rickon die in Jon’s arms. Sometimes when she screamed loud enough, she’d wake Jon up, and he’d come into her bedchamber to see if she was alright. As a result, she had become close with her brother over the past couple moons for he was really the only one to understand how it felt to be a prisoner of her own mind.

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked on the door, making her jump slightly.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“The castle guards, my lady. They say we have a visitor at the gates.”

_Who could that be?_

“Come in,” she said.

“Lady Sansa,” a guard said gently as the door creaked open.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, completely uninterested as she continued sewing.

“I’m sorry to disturb, my lady, but there is a young woman outside the gates,” he began carefully. “She claims to be your sister.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “My sister?” she repeated in shock. _That’s impossible. My sister is dead._ But no one ever found a body, so… “Did you get a look at her?”

“Yes, my lady. She was a small girl with short brown messy hair dressed as if she were a man.”

She felt her stomach dropped as she set the needles down on the table nearby. _Is it possible? Could it really be…_

“Arya,” she whispered aloud to herself. She looked up at the man and demanded, “Take me to her.”

The man nodded. “Of course.”

They walked out of the room, and Sansa was dying to know who the stranger was. For all she knew, Arya was dead. No one had seen her in years. No one even heard anything from her. Sensing her anxiety, the guard studied her face in confusion.

But Sansa didn’t care. She couldn’t take it anymore. _I need to see if it’s true._

So, she ran through the courtyard like she would as a child all while praying the man wasn’t wrong. She almost tripped over her gray cloak as she threw it over her shoulders.

“Open the gates!” Sansa called to the man in the guard tower. He turned in surprise at the sound of her voice, and Sansa was getting even more impatient. “OPEN THE DOORS NOW!”

Then all at once, the iron gates slowly started creaking open. And there the small figure stood, with two Winterfell guards on her arms and a hundred wolves around her.

“Sansa?” the figure asked. Although the voice had grown deeper and more mature, it was still the same.

“Arya!” she choked as she ran towards her carelessly. She turned to the guards before shouting, “That’s my sister, my little sister!”

They barely had time to release her before Sansa wrapped Arya in her arms.

“Arya, oh Arya,” Sansa sobbed as they rocked back and forth. She held her sister so tight as if to tell the gods she’d never let her go again.

After a few moments, Sansa finally had the strength to break apart and look at her. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said desperately.

“I’ve missed you too,” Arya said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, Arya, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have looked for you at King’s Landing. It’s all my fault, I—”

But Arya shook her head. “It’s okay, Sansa.”

Sansa looked at Arya with tears streaming down her face, but her sister didn’t share one. There was something different about her gaze. Something _darker._ Almost emotionless.

Sansa studied her sister with concern. “What happened to you?”

Arya tried to force a smile. “Many things.”

“A-And who are they?” she asked while motioning to the wolves behind them.

Now she gave a genuine smile. “I trust you remember Nymeria?”

Sansa’s eyes widened in shock as she recognized the grey direwolf. “That’s impossible.”

“I thought so too,” she said as she stroked her pet happily. “I found her on the Kingsroad actually, on my way here. After I killed the Freys.”

_What the hells?_

“Wait, what?” Sansa asked in pure confusion. Jon had told her all of House Frey was found murdered, but they never thought…

“I killed them all,” she said simply.

Sansa made a face. “How?”

She smirked. “I did some… training when I left King’s Landing. In Braavos.”

“Isn’t that in Essos?”

Arya nodded. “Yes.”

“So, how’d you get there?”

“A ship.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. _At least her stubbornness didn’t change._ “What did you _do_ in Braavos?”

The smirk returned. “I became a Faceless Man.”

Sansa choked on her own saliva. “ _What?”_

“I became a Faceless Man,” she simply repeated.

“But they’re assassins!”

“Yes,” Arya agreed.

The blood drained from Sansa’s face. _My sister. My baby sister. She’s an assassin? A murderer?_ “Why?”

“Because I have a list.”

“A list of what?” Sansa challenged nervously.

But before Arya could answer, another voice contributed to the conversation. “What list are you talking about Sansa?”

She didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was, and Arya knew too.

“JON?” she shrieked as Sansa saw a flash of the little girl in Arya’s eyes.

Sansa watched as her sister’s eyes went glossy, and Jon’s jaw fell shock when he saw her. But that moment of shock was immediately replaced with pure happiness as he grinned so widely Sansa thought his face would explode. Tears began spilling down Arya’s face as the King in the North began to approach them with quick strides. However, Arya couldn’t wait that long, and within seconds, she flung herself into Jon’s awaiting arms. Sansa watched as they embraced lovingly in the middle of the courtyard as she smiled.

_I’ll give them a moment alone._


	7. JON II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks reunite. Jon tells of the ravens he received.

Jon could barely breathe as he held his beloved sister in his arms.

“I thought you were dead!” he exclaimed passionately, almost like an accusation. _Why had she not written him?_

“I thought _you_ were dead,” she challenged back.

Jon smiled. “I was.”

Arya laughed as she clung to him for another hug. The bright-eyed little girl he left in Winterfell all those years ago with knotted hair and scraped knees was replaced with a darker, slender woman. He noticed she still had his dark, thick hair that she wore in a tight bun in the back of her head. Her long face was thinner and more tired than before and looked like she had been through hell and back.

“I’ve missed you,” he managed to croak through his salty tears. He didn’t even remember the last time he cried, but Arya was everything to him. And she was finally home. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

He could feel her smile as she fought to break free of his grip. “Me too.”

“I love you,” he said, his voice raspy from crying. “And I always will. I will never let anyone take you away again or let alone hurt you.”

“I know you will try,” Arya agreed seriously, but there was something different about her. Her eyes were mysterious and looked like they had seen true horrors.

“A lot has happened since you left. I’ve been trying to come home ever since I left King's Landing after father died.”

His heart broke a little with the mention of his name. _I should’ve been there. I should’ve been there to protect my family._ But it was too late, Ned Stark was long dead.

“Tell me,” Jon pleaded. “Tell me where you’ve been all this time.”

But it wasn’t Arya who answered. “She became an assassin of the Faceless Men,” Sansa said carefully.

Jon laughed as he looked down at Arya again. _That’s impossible, not my little sister._ But her face was blank showing Sansa wasn’t kidding. Jon’s face fell at the realization as he studied his sister like it was the first time he ever saw her. _Do I even know her anymore?_ “What?” he asked in a small voice.

Arya gulped and nodded.

“She’s the one that killed the Freys,” Sansa contributed again.

Jon’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re kidding!”

But Arya’s emotionless expression didn’t change. “They were on my list,” she stated simply.

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “Your list?”

“Of the people I’m going to kill.”

_Oh._

Jon gulped. “How many have you gotten so far?”

She just smiled. “A few,” she confessed. “This definitely helped.” She unsheathed a small sword from her waist, and Jon’s eyes widened with delight.

“You still have it!” he exclaimed happily as he looked upon the sword that he had given her before he left for the Wall.

“Needle saved my life many times.”

Jon grinned. “I assume you’ve learned out to wield it?”

Arya raised her eyebrows. “I bet I can beat you now.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he said as he unsheathed Longclaw.

A gasp left her mouth as she looked at the sword with envy. He handed it over to her as she inspected the metalwork.

“Where did you get this?” she asked in awe.

“It was given to me at the Wall.”

“That’s one hell of a gift,” Arya said as she handed it back.

_It was._

He just smirked. “Jealous?”

Arya returned his expression. “It’s too heavy for me,” she sneered.

He looked over to see his direwolf Ghost sniffing another large gray wolf. _Nymeria._

He grinned again. “I see you still have Nymeria.”

She looked over to watch her direwolf. “We parted ways for a while. I actually found her with her pack on the Kingsroad. I was wondering if they could stay here to help us win the war.”

Jon looked at the hundreds of wolves roaming around the outside of the gates. “Of course. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“Thank you,” she said honestly.

Suddenly, Sansa tugged on his furs. “You need to tell her about the ravens.”

Arya furrowed her eyebrows. “What ravens?”

Jon sighed. _Of course, it has to be right now._ “Well first, I got one from my friend Samwell Tarly at the Wall. I sent him to the Citadel to train as a maester, and to read their books to give us any information on the White Walkers. The only ways we know to kill them are through Valyrian steel, fire or dragonglass.”

“Dragonglass?”

“It’s like obsidian; volcanic rock,” Sansa explained.

Arya glared at her. “I know what it means.”

“I told the northern lords to search for anything on dragonglass they may have had, and Sam said Dragonstone sits on a pile of dragonglass…”

“That’s great! We can mine it then,” Arya insisted.

Jon made a face. “Not exactly.”

“We also received a raven from Dragonstone from Daenerys Targaryen. She has arrived here on Westeros with a very large army and three dragons,” Sansa stated firmly.

Arya’s eyes widened. “Dragons?”

“Three full-sized dragons.”

Arya shook her head in confusion. “What does she want?”

“Well she invited me to meet her…”

“...And?” Arya asked, acknowledging there was a catch.

Jon gave a weak smile. “And to bend the knee.”

“So, what does this mean?”

Jon looked at both his sisters carefully. _They’re not going to like this._ “I need to go to Dragonstone.”

“WHAT?” they blurted out in unison.

“You can’t!” Sansa screamed in anger.

Arya’s face just fell in shock. “I just fucking got here!”

“I NEED TO!” he yelled back. “It’s the _only_ way we can mine the weapons we need to survive.”

“Send someone else! It doesn’t need to be you!”

Jon shook his head reluctantly. “The letter was addressed to me from Lord Tyrion. She is expecting a king, not a lord. It has to be me.”

“You’re too important—” Sansa trailed off as she shook her head.

“I am the King,” Jon said heated. “I make the final decisions. And my decision is I will be going to Dragonstone. Ser Davos will accompany me along with a few other northmen.”

Arya stepped forward defensively. “If you’re going, then I’m going to.”

Jon glared at his sister. “Absolutely fucking not!”

She stepped right up to his face. Even though she was considerably shorter still, she was completely fearless. “Absolutely fucking yes,” she said coolly. “I am a Faceless assassin. You need me.”

Sansa threw her arms in the air. “This is absolute madness. I just regained my family again for them all to leave?”

She turned to Jon and glared at him. “And what are we supposed to do while you’re gone? Winter is coming!”

He looked to his feet. “They will be in good company. They will have you as their leader.”

Sansa gasped. “Me?”

“Yes,” he emphasized. “You’re a great leader, Sansa. I believe in you.”

Sansa blushes slightly at the compliment, but that did not stop Arya from rolling her eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Jon soothed. “Let us go inside. I’m sure we all have lots to catch up on…”

Arya’s eyes brightened. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Like where the seven hells you both have been all these years!”

Jon chuckled at her expression as they began walking through the courtyard. It felt so good to have his family back; _well, everyone but Bran._

But he knew he had to leave them. _The dragonglass is too important, and the Dragon Queen will want an alliance. I don’t give a fuck what happens in the South since the North is free. Perhaps she will let me mine the dragonglass knowing we won’t be her enemy._

At least he hoped.


	8. JON III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon tells the northern lords his plans to travel south.

That night, Jon laid awake under the furs as Ghost slept at his feet. He was staying in Robb’s old room since then he could actually be in the main keep because his old room was with the stewards and cooks. Sansa had offered Father’s room to him, but he refused. _That room was sacred. It wouldn’t be right for me to sleep there._ Besides, he thought if Lady Stark ever saw him sleeping there from one of the seven heavens, she’d find a way to murder him. _And I don’t feel like being murdered again._

Although he kept reminding himself he was the King, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unhappiness and loneliness he had always felt in Winterfell. All those years of bad memories stained the place, and it never felt like home. _Nowhere felt like home. I went to the Wall looking for a home to be murdered by my own men. I don’t belong anywhere._

Jon felt tears starting to stream down his face as he mourned the childhood he never had. So many nights he had laid there wishing his mother would’ve just left him in the street to die somewhere as a baby. So many nights he sat there twirling a knife around his fingers, wishing he just had the strength to end it right then and there. These anxious thoughts swirled around his head as he craved for someone’s love and touch to comfort him. A love that he would never have, and he accepted that. He thought back to Ygritte for a moment, _was that love? I don’t know. I saw the way Sam would look at Gilly and Father would look at Lady Stark. That was love. Ygritte was just a high I never wanted to come back down from._

He knew he would never find true love; he accepted that a long time ago. _For who could learn to love a bastard? Maybe now as King I stand a chance, but I never want to give the last name Snow. I just want someone to love me for me. Just as… Jon. Someone I could love and trust; someone to be my best friend._

He doubted anyone in the world could ever understand his situation as he began another sleepless night tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep. Finally, in the midnight black with the sound of the wind whipping against the walls, he drifted off slowly. For he always loved to sleep, as it was the only time when his loneliness and sadness would escape him.

That night, he dreamt he was riding a dragon — a big green one with golden speckles. He knew it was silly, but ever since he was a child pretending he was Aemon the Dragonknight, he loved dragons. _And Daenerys has three!_

The feeling was unforgettable as he soared through the sky and screeched with delight. Eventually, he landed on a plain field with a big house with a red door and lemon trees on it. The sun was shining down on him, and he began to hear laughing as he approached. He dipped his head under the one lemon branch as he got attacked suddenly by children.

“PAPA!” they screamed as the one jumped into his arms.

He barely had enough time to react to catch the little girl as he swung her around to meet his face. His heart filled with unexplained joy as he admired her silver-blonde hair and gazed into her tiny violet eyes. Jon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Look Papa! Look what I found!” the other child screamed excitedly as they tugged on his pant leg. He put the little silver-haired girl down to see himself as a little boy staring up at him. _No, that’s not possible._ As he looked closer, however, he realized it wasn’t quite him; for the child also had violet eyes. He displayed a nice rock to him as if it were pure gold. The simplicity made him smile.

“Come children, let your father have a break,” a sweet voice cooed from behind.

 _Father? Are these my children? A daughter? A son?_ Jon never imagined he’d ever have children. _Let alone children this beautiful._

But it was the voice that enchanted him.

“Who are you?” he whispered as he looked upon the mystery woman. She too had silver-blonde hair, just like the little girl, and was peeling lemons under the tree. He felt a sudden longing for this woman; he wanted to kiss her, love her, hold her. Never in his life had he seen a woman so beautiful, but the sunlight was blocking her face. _If this is a dream, I never want to be woken up._

But the scene suddenly disappeared as cold water splashed down on him.

“SEVEN HELLS!” he shouted as he jolted up in bed to see who he was about to punch in the face.

“Good morning, big brother,” Arya said, smirking down at him. “Sleep well? Sounded like it. Must’ve been some dream… muttering all romantic-like in your sleep.”

She proceeded to make kissing noises as Jon threw a pillow at her. He wiped his face as Arya continued to laugh.

“See! I was right,” she said as she pointed down at his breeches.

His face turned red, and he didn’t even have to look down as he felt the bulge in his pants.

Arya snickered at his embarrassment. “Just because you’re King doesn’t mean you’re not my brother,” she sneered as she threw his armor at him. “Get up. The lords are waiting for you in the Great Hall.”

_Fuck._

He had completely forgotten he was going to tell the northern lords of his plans to meet Daenerys Targaryen. He dressed as quickly as he could before heading down to the Great Hall.

When he arrived, the northern lords were already there along with Sansa, Arya and Ser Davos at the high table. After getting a small bite to eat, he stood up and the hall fell silent immediately.

“Good morning my lords, ladies,” he welcomed as he held up the raven from Sam. “This message was sent to me by Samwell Tarly. He was my brother at the Night's Watch. A man I trust as much as anyone in this world. He's discovered proof that Dragonstone sits on a mountain of dragonglass.”

The lords began to mutter amongst themselves enthusiastically. _Good, they understand we must do anything to secure dragonglass._ He handed the scroll off to Lord Glover to pass around to all the lords so they could read it for themselves.

Next, he held up the raven sent from Tyrion Lannister.

He took a deep breath. “I also received this a few days ago from Dragonstone. It was sent to me by Tyrion Lannister.”

The hall echoed louder with mutters this time. _They won’t like what I’m about to say._ He could feel the concerned eyes of Arya and Sansa on him.

“He's now Hand of the Queen to Daenerys Targaryen,” he began. “She intends to take the Iron Throne from Cersei Lannister. She has a powerful army at her back and if this message is to be believed, three dragons.”

The lords began speaking among themselves while giving looks of concern. _I don’t blame them; I’m concerned too. But it’s now or never._

He gulped. “Lord Tyrion has invited me to Dragonstone to meet with Daenerys… and I'm going to accept.”

Right when he said the words he regretted it. The room exploded with negative outcry from the lords, and he had to shout to quiet them down.

“We need this dragonglass, my lords!” he insisted. “We know that dragonglass can destroy both White Walkers and their army. We need to mine it and turn it into weapons!”

After a few moments, the tension defused, and the lords started nodding in agreement. He exchanged looks with Davos, _thank the gods._

“But more importantly,” he asserted, “we need allies. The Night King's army grows larger by the day. We can't defeat them on our own. We don't have the numbers.”

The lords reluctantly nodded their heads.

 _Good._ “Daenerys has her own army and she has dragon fire. I need to try and persuade her to fight with us. Ser Davos and I will ride for White Harbor along with a few other northmen, and then sail for Dragonstone.”

“As will I,” Arya reminded him.

He shared a tense look with her, but there was no use. _I know she will get on that bloody ship no matter the cost._

So, Jon backed down. “And Arya too.”

However, Lord Glover stood up in protest. “Have you forgotten what happened to your grandfather? The Mad King invited him to King's Landing and roasted him alive!”

Jon gulped. “I know that.”

The lords began muttering in agreement. _Fuck._

“She is here to reclaim the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. The North is one of those seven kingdoms, boy. This isn't an invitation, it's a trap!” Lord Glover rallied.

Arya stood up in defense. “Call my brother ‘boy’ again, and I will cut your throat.”

Lord Glover’s bannermen stood in reaction, unsheathing your swords.

“No one will be cutting any throats! Arya, _sit down_ ,” Jon hissed.

Arya took one last look at the Lord before taking her seat again.

Once the situation had calmed, his eyes narrowed. “But I am not a boy; I am your King. And it could be, but I don't believe Tyrion would do that. He’s a good man.”

Now it was Lord Royce who stood up to face him. “Your Grace, with respect I must agree with Lord Glover. I remember the Mad King all too well. A Targaryen cannot be trusted, nor can a Lannister!”

The lords shouted in agreement.

“We called your brother king, and then he rode south and lost his kingdom!” Lord Glover yelled.

Then little Lyanna Mormont stood. “Winter is here, Your Grace. We need the King in the North _in the North_.”

The lords pounded the tables in agreement.

Jon looked at Sansa with concern. _Help me._

She got the message and stood up. “Lords, ladies, I know this is a large risk. I was opposed to it at first, and part of me still is. Our King is abandoning his home,” she started as she looked at him.

Jon glared at her. _Not fucking helping._

She cleared her throat and resumed her gaze back to the audience. “But we have no other choice. You’re right, Winter is here. That is why Jon must do this.”

The lords began muttering in agreement once more.

_Now’s my chance._

“You all crowned me your King,” he said as he stood more confidently than he felt. “I never wanted it, I never asked for it, but I accepted it because the North is my home. It's part of me and I will never stop fighting for it, no matter the odds. But the odds are _against_ us. None of you have seen the Army of the Dead. None of you. We can never hope to defeat them alone! We need allies, _powerful_ allies. I know it's a risk. But I have to take it.”

“Then send an emissary! Don't go yourself!” Lord Glove insisted.

But Jon shook his head. “Daenerys is a queen. Only a king can convince her to help us. It has to be me.”

“Who will lead the North in your absence, Your Grace?” Littlefinger suddenly said from the shadows. “Surely you won’t leave your kingdom unattended.”

Just the sound of his voice made Jon want to squirm. “I'm leaving it in good hands.”

Littlefinger tilted his head in confusion. “Whose?”

He turned to Sansa. “My sister, Sansa. She will be the only Stark left in Winterfell. Until I return, the North is hers.”

And with that, Jon left the meeting in a hurry in order to collect his thoughts again. _Gods, I fucking hate being King._


	9. CERSEI I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei and Jaime discuss their next move. Euron meets the Queen.

Cersei was standing over the mural of Westeros she had commissioned a few moons ago on the floor. The painter was still completing it, and she watched as he continued to brush out the remaining lands of the North.

“What is this?” a familiar voice asked from behind.

Cersei turned around with a smile to see her favorite person: _Jaime._ She stared at the painter for a moment until he got the subtle hint to leave them alone. He nodded eventually while putting down his brush and exited.

“It's what we've been waiting for our whole lives,” she beamed with pride. “It's what Father trained us for, whether he knew it or not.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “He knew it. Made me memorize every damn city, town, lake, forest, and mountain.”

Cersei smiled as she looked down at the painted map. “It's ours now, we just have to take it.”

She turned to face her love as her smile faded. “You've been quiet since you came home. Are you angry with me?”

He shook his head. “No, not angry,” he denied.

_But there’s something still wrong._

“Are you afraid of me?” she asked curiously.

Instead of laughing it off, he just stared. “Should I be?”

Cersei’s heart sank. _He is afraid of me. Does he even still love me?_

“Daenerys Targaryen has chosen Tyrion to be her Hand. Right now, they're sailing across the Narrow Sea, hoping to take back her father's throne. Our little brother, the one you love so much, the one you set free, the one who murdered our father and our first-born son, now he stands beside our enemies and gives them counsel,” she exclaimed bitterly. She could feel her blood boiling just at the mention of her monster brother. _No, he’s not my brother. He never has been. Just a traitor. I should’ve killed him years ago when I had the chance._

She flailed her arms down at the map. “He's out there somewhere at the head of an armada,” she said as she motioned towards the Narrow Sea. “Where will they land?”

Jaime thought for a moment. “Dragonstone,” he answered confidently.

He walked over to the island’s depiction and stood over it. “They have deep-water ports for the ships. Stannis left the castle unoccupied, and that's where she was born.”

Cersei snorted. “Enemies to the east,” she pointed as she walked towards Winterfell on the mural. “Enemies to the north. Ned Stark's bastard has been named King in the North and that murdering whore Sansa stands beside him.”

She next walked down to Dorne. “Enemies to the south — Ellaria Sand and her brood of bitches.”

“We did kill her husband.”

Cersei glared at him in disgust. “ _She_ murdered Myrcella! Or have you forgotten?”

Jaime’s face fell. “How dare you? I will _never_ forget how she died in my arms!” he said, clearly heated.

Cersei rolled her eyes. _What was wrong with him?_ She walked next towards Highgarden. “And enemies to the west — Olenna, the old cunt. Another traitor.”

“You did blow up her family,” Jaime reminded her.

Cersei’s face fell. “I did what was _necessary_ for our family’s survival,” she spat.

“Our baby boy killed himself!” he said passionately.

Cersei felt herself fill with fury. “He betrayed me. He betrayed us both. Should we spend our days mourning the dead — mother, father, and all our children?”

Jaime looked at her desperately. “Cersei—” he began to plead as he reached out for her, but she swatted him away.

“I loved them. I did. But they're ashes now and we're still flesh and blood. We're the last Lannisters, the last ones who count anyways,” she offered as she walked towards the middle of the map. “Enemies everywhere. We're completely surrounded by traitors. You're in command of the Lannister army now. How do we proceed?”

Jaime looked down to study the map again. “Winter is here,” he admitted. “We can't win a war if we can't feed our men and our horses. The Tyrells have the grain, the Tyrells have the livestock.”

“Will the Tyrell bannermen stand alongside a Dothraki horde and Unsullied slave soldiers?”

He shrugged. “If they think Daenerys will win. No one wants to fight on the losing side. Right now, we look like the losing side.”

Cersei looked at her lover in shock. “ _I'm_ the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!”

“Three kingdoms, at best!” he said honestly. “I'm not sure you understand how much danger we're in.”

She stiffened again. _I will not let him be my weakness._ “I understand we're in a war for survival,” she remarked carefully. “I understand whoever loses dies. I understand whoever wins could launch a dynasty that lasts a thousand years.”

“A dynasty for whom?” Jaime exclaimed sadly. “Our children are dead!”

She shrugged as she walked over to a nearby table to pour herself wine. “A dynasty for us, then.”

He trailed passionately after her. “Even Lannisters can't survive without allies! Where are our allies now? You saw what happened to Walder Frey and his family!”

_I forgot about that._ She pursed her lips as she looked out the window at the Red Keep. “I heard,” she acknowledged. “How could we ever trust a man like that?”

“We couldn't. He was a useless, old coward,” he agreed. Jaime walked up and touched her arm to have her face him. “But the Freys supported us. Now they're all dead. Whoever killed them is no friend of ours. We need allies. Stronger, better allies. We can't win this war alone.”

“You think I listened to Father for 40 years and learned nothing?” she mocked.

Cersei left the room as she started down the corridor to face Blackwater Bay. She heard Jaime trailing after her as the Mountain and other Queensguard followed.

Eventually, she stopped in front of a window that allowed her to see the ships sailing towards them.

“The Greyjoys? You invited the _Greyjoys_ to King's Landing?” Jaime suddenly asked in disbelief.

Cersei smiled. “Not all of them.”

Jaime snorted. “Well, it looks like all of them.”

She turned to face him. “I invited Euron Greyjoy, the new King of the Iron Islands. You just said yourself that we needed stronger, better allies,” she reminded him. She pointed to the oncoming fleet. “There you are.”

Jaime rolled his eyes in disgust. “How are they better allies? How are they different from the Freys? They both broke their promises and murdered their former friends as soon as it suited them!”

Cersei shrugged. “So, does everyone when it suits them,” she admitted. “But unlike the Freys, they have ships. _And_ they're good at killing.”

Jaime scowled. “They're not good at anything! I know the Ironborn. They're bitter, angry little people. All they know how to do is steal things they can't build or grow themselves,” he sneered.

Cersei looked back out to Blackwater Bay. “Euron Greyjoy didn't come here for that.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Oh, what did he come here for, then?”

“A queen.”

And with that, she proceeded down to the throne room to await their new guests.

After an hour, the Greyjoys finally docked; and Cersei was sitting in the Iron Throne waiting for Euron’s arrival. Jaime and the Mountain stood behind her with Qyburn at her side and guards lining the hall.

Eventually, the door opened, and a few Ironborn came through the door followed by another man. _That must be Euron._ He was as pale as a ghost, but to her surprise, slightly handsome. He had black hair with a dark beard, and an eyepatch over his left eye. His right eye was blue as the sky she noticed as he got closer. His lips matched his eyes, bearing a slight blue tint. He smiled at the sight of her and bowed as he approached. 

Qyburn stood firmly. “You stand in the presence of Cersei of the House Lannister, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Euron smiled wickedly. “Your Grace,” he began. “It is an honor.”

She smirked. “Rise.”

Euron stood up to face her.

“I trust you know why you’re here today, Euron Greyjoy?” she asked him firmly.

He nodded. “For an alliance between the great Houses of Lannister and Greyjoy.”

Cersei pursed her lips at the word choice. _Greyjoy is not a grand House._ But she gave a fake smile anyways. “Yes,” she lied. “The crown is surrounded by enemies, and we need your help destroying them.”

Now it was he that smirked. “Oh?” he mocked.

“But,” she began firmly. “We have no reason to trust you. I have summoned you here to prove your loyalty. However, how do I know you will not try to murder us the moment I turn my back like you tried with your niece and nephew?”

His face fell momentarily, but Euron kept up the snarky persona. “The moment I was chosen Lord of the Iron Islands, they turned on me. Their own uncle. They stole my best ships and ran. Sailed the right across the world and gave them to the Dragon Queen so she could bring her armies here to attack you.”

She tried not to roll her eyes as he continued to explain his story. _This is boring me._

Eventually, he pointed at her. “Of course, it's nothing compares to the treason you suffered at the hands of a family member, from what I hear,” he insisted.

_Tyrion._ The mention of him made her want to wrap her hands around the treasonous dwarf’s neck and strangle him until all the life left his useless body.

“But still, it bothers me,” Euron nodded as he continued. He suddenly gave a wicked smile. “Murdering them would make me feel a lot better. And since it appears that all our treasonous family members are fighting for the same side, I thought we rightful monarchs could murder them together.”

He began approaching the throne, but Ser Gregor stopped him. Euron looked slightly intimidated of him, but he hid it well.

Jaime rolled his eyes. “You're not a rightful monarch, though, are you?” he sneered.

Euron smiled as he walked back to his original position.

“The Greyjoys rebelled against the throne for the right to be monarchs, but as I recall, you were soundly defeated. Come to mention it, weren't you the one who started that rebellion by sailing to Casterly Rock and burning the Lannister fleet?” Jaime challenged. “You certainly caught us there. Very smart move on your part. Of course, we all made it to the Iron Islands anyway. I was there.”

Cersei found it hard to contain her snickering at the situation.

But Euron was not to be defeated easily. “I remember very well,” he nodded with a fake smile. “I saw you. I heard so much talk. ‘The best in the world,’ they’d say. ‘No one can stop him!’”

Jaime gave a slight smile out of pride.

“I didn't believe it, to be honest,” Euron confessed. “But I must say when you rushed through the breach and started cutting people down… it was glorious. Like a dance.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “The people I was cutting down were your own kin.”

Euron shrugged. “The place was getting crowded. I enjoyed watching it. I truly did.”

“And I enjoyed killing Greyjoys.”

Cersei tapped her fingernails impatiently against the arm of the Iron Throne. _I clearly do not care._

He smiled. “A good thing for me. If you hadn't crushed us, I wouldn't have gone into exile. If I hadn't done that, I wouldn't be the greatest captain on the 14 seas,” Euron bragged.

She rolled her eyes. “If not the humblest.”

He snickered. “You're not humble. You're the Queen of a great nation. You don't care about the Iron Islands. They're nothing but rocks and bird shit — and a lot of _very_ unattractive people.”

Cersei sat up in curiosity. _Where is he going with this?_

He raised his eyebrows as he took a step closer. “The Iron Fleet, on the other hand, that's something else entirely,” he said wickedly. “It's the greatest armada Westeros has ever seen. With the Iron Fleet, you own the seas. You can defeat the invaders of the east and the pretenders of the north and south.”

Cersei pursed her lips. _He’s right, and I want those ships. I want to destroy my traitor enemies._ “What do you want in return?” she asked as if she didn’t know the answer.

He smiled again. “Ever since I was a little boy, I wanted to grow up and marry the most beautiful woman in the world,” he confessed. “So here I am, with a thousand ships and two good hands.”

He raised his arms in the air as she noticed from the corner of her eye Jaime’s face twist. She smiled at his effort. _This man thinks I’m a fool._

“I decline your proposal,” she stated firmly.

Euron’s face fell. “Why?”

“You're not trustworthy,” she explained. “You've broken promises to allies before and murdered them at the nearest opportunity. You murdered your own brother.”

He chuckled. “You should try it. Feels wonderful,” he said as he glanced at Jaime.

Jaime’s face fell in shock again as he looked to Cersei. But she wasn’t concerned with her brother right now. _The best weapon is between a woman’s legs._

“I don't expect you to trust me outright,” he confessed. “You need proof of my honest intentions. In my experience, the surest way to a woman's heart is with a gift. A _priceless_ gift. I won't return to King's Landing until I have that for you.”

And with that, he gave one last smile before turning around to exit the throne room. Cersei sat there on the throne, surprisingly intrigued.

_I wonder what this man will bring me._


	10. DAENERYS III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany, Yara, Theon, Ellaria, Lady Olenna, Varys, and Tyrion discuss their conquest of Westeros and the King in the North.

“If you want the Iron Throne, take it,” Yara emphasized. “We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit King's Landing now. Hard. With everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”

Yara, Theon, Ellaria, Lady Olenna, Varys, and Tyrion joined her in the Chamber of the Painted Table to discuss her plan for conquering Westeros. _Not conquering, saving it. I’m not my ancestors._

Tyrion shook his head. “If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms,” he countered. “Cersei will try to rally the lords of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty, their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point.”

Dany shifted in annoyance. _Although I want the throne, he’s right._

However, Ellaria Sand looked at him with disgust. “It's called war,” she sneered. “You don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

Dany paused as she felt all eyes on her. After taking a deep breath, she confessed, “I am not here to be queen of the ashes.”

Lady Olenna Tyrell smiled. “That's very nice to hear. Of course, I can't remember a queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her; the nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes,” she remarked darkly. “Commoners, nobles, they're all just children really. They won't obey you unless they _fear_ you.”

Dany smiled softly back. “I'm grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your council. I'm grateful to all of you,” she admitted honestly. “But you have chosen to follow me. I will not attack King's Landing. We will not attack King's Landing.”

Lady Olenna made a face. “Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne? By asking nicely?” she asked sarcastically.

Before she could answer, Tyrion answered.

“Well, luckily, my sister is the most despised woman in Westeros. The lords and common folk are looking for a strong leader that will help them. When we prove ourselves, we will have very little trouble having them bend the knee.”

“And how do you suggest we prove ourselves?” Dany asked.

Lord Varys spoke up. “My little birds have told me that the Lannister army marches south to Highgarden, Your Grace,” he informed them. “Cersei needs your gold, Lady Olenna, to pay their outrageous debts to the Iron Bank.”

“And we need to protect Highgarden at all costs. They are the ultimate supply of food and gold, and if the Lannisters take that, we’re done. We prove ourselves there first,” Tyrion stated firmly.

“Very well,” Lady Olenna agreed. “How do we do this? The Tyrell army is very small; Cersei blew up our best knights.”

Tyrion nodded. “We will send the Second Sons along with the Dornish army to protect and defend it. There won’t be many since the rest of them we left to protect Meereen for our Queen. We can sail from Dragonstone to Wyr to gather the Dornish army and march to Highgarden,” he said as he moved the Targaryen, Martell, and Tyrell figurines to Highgarden on the table.

“Good. It’s far too early to die still,” Lady Olenna replied.

Tyrion cracked a small smile. “My brother will be matching with the Lannister army to Highgarden via the Roseroad. However, we must stop them from ever reaching it,” he explained carefully as he moved the lion Lannister figurines from King's Landing towards Highgarden.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Dany asked.

“We sail with the Dothraki and discreetly meet them in the Blackwater Rush and attack. We will destroy the Lannister army, taking away Cersei’s power,” he said as a Targaryen dragon figurine knocked over the lion. “The Iron Bank will turn against her and onto our side, and as my father always said, gold wins wars.”

Yara made a face. “Sail using the Iron Fleet? Our uncle would surely recognize us. It’d be an ambush.”

“Yes, I agree, my lady,” Varys contributed. “But that is why I will get merchant ships to disguise ourselves. No one will suspect an army then.”

Tyrion smiled. “Yes, and the distance is considerably short. This way the Dothraki doesn’t have to spend so much time at sea.”

“And what of the Unsullied?” Dany questioned.

Tyrion walked to the head of the table where the North was painted. “Jon Snow has agreed to meet with us here to discuss an alliance and bending the knee. Securing the North and its people is crucial to being favorable in Westeros. The common folk love Jon, and for our Queen to be loved, we need him,” he explained. “In order to get him here, I would like to send a ship to meet him at White Harbor.”

“One of ours, you mean,” Yara said as she rolled her eyes.

Tyrion’s face darkened. “Yes, one of yours. But only one. The rest will be aiding our Queen defeat her enemies.”

“I would like to volunteer to be its captain,” Theon suddenly said from behind. “I haven’t seen Jon in years, and I owe him a sincere apology. It’s the least I could do.”

Dany nodded. “You will sail at first light.” Theon smiled and bowed in thanks.

However, Tyrion wasn’t done. “So, Jon Snow is an important part of securing Westeros. And as I’ve said before, the best way to secure an alliance is through marriage…” he said as he moved the Stark direwolf figurines towards Dragonstone to meet the rest of the dragon ones.

Dany let out a breath of surprise. _Marry him?_

“You’re suggesting she marry someone she never met?” Lady Olenna shouted in protest. Dany turned to give her a small smile. _She’s like the grandmother I never had._

“Jon Snow is a good man. He will treat our Queen with love and respect… hopefully,” Tyrion insisted.

Dany paused again to ponder the idea. _I want to meet him first. Hopefully he’s not hideous._ “Very well. I will propose to marry this Jon Snow to secure the North. But I want to meet him first.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Your happiness is everything,” Tyrion assured. _He’d never want to deliberately hurt me._

“Once we have Jon, what then?” Yara asked.

Tyrion grabbed the direwolf and dragon figurines and walked to the head of the table. “We go to Winterfell,” he said as he placed them down. “Dragonstone is too dangerous to stay at since it’s so close to King's Landing. We will have many miles between Cersei then.”

“And to win the common people, we will deliver them an abundance of food…” Varys added. He turned to Lady Olenna as he said, “Eventually the Starks _will_ be right, and winter _is_ coming. The northmen are starving. We want our Queen to be loved like your granddaughter, and what did your granddaughter give the common folk? Food.”

Lady Olenna sat for a moment and stared at the painted table, pondering the request. Dany looked towards her nervously, _we will need this food to secure them._ “Very well,” she finally said. “You will have your food _once_ we protect Highgarden.”

“Of course, Lady Olenna. You have my word,” Dany promised.

“Yes, and as a token of good faith to the northmen, we will take back the Riverlands,” Tyrion suggested. “Walder Frey took control after murdering Jon Snow’s brother at a wedding, and he is despised by northmen and the Riverlands. Taking this back and restoring the Tully’s as the Lords of Riverrun will gain more popularity.” He then took the Frey figurine and knocked it over by another dragon.

Dany watched nervously. _How long will this all take?_

“This will cut Cersei completely off from the Westerlands, where Casterly Rock is held by my uncle,” Tyrion explained. “We just have to wait it out and they will starve.”

_I like the sound of that. The most gain with the least amount of civilian death._

However, Varys made a face. “My Lord, my little birds have told me the Stark girl murdered the Frey’s at the Twins.”

Tyrion’s face fell in shock. “Sansa?”

Varys shook his head. “No, Arya.”

Everyone looked around in shock. _Who’s Arya? Who’s Sansa? I need to know these people._ “Arya’s _alive_?” Lady Olenna all but screamed. “We’ve been looking for her for ages!”

Varys smiled slyly. “Apparently, and she trained with the Faceless Men. She’s out for revenge for the crimes committed against her family.”

Dany smiled at the sound of that. _I’m good at giving people their revenge and justice. I answer injustice with justice._ “Good, we can use this to our advantage,” she announced boldly. “If it’s revenge she wants, we will give her revenge. We have three dragons.”

Tyrion furrowed his eyebrows. “If we go around burning down every enemy, everyone will fear you. You don’t want to be queen of the ashes, remember?”

Dany nodded. _I did just say that. But gods, sometimes I just want to burn this entire country down._ “Alright, what about the Vale?” she asked as she traced her finger over the section of the table.

“The idiot boy Robin Arryn is the lord, but everyone knows it’s controlled by Petyr Baelish,” Lady Olenna explained fiercely.

“And Littlefinger is loyal to Sansa Stark,” Yara added.

Tyrion nodded. “So, upon our alliance with Jon Snow, we will gain the loyalty from the Vale.”

Dany smiled. _We can do this. I can do this._ She looked around the table at everyone’s faces. “Do I have your support?”

Yara nodded. “You have mine.”

“Dorne is with you, Your Grace,” Ellaria agreed happily.

Lady Olenna nodded her head in agreement as well.

She bowed her head in courtesy. “Thank you all,” she said sincerely. “Lady Olenna, may I speak with you alone?”

Lady Olenna nodded as Dany watched everyone leave the Chamber of the Painted Table one by one. Tyrion was the last to leave, giving his Queen one last look before closing the door behind him. Once she heard it shut tight, Dany walked to the end and sat next to her.

“I realize you're here out of hatred for Cersei and not love for me,” she began carefully. “But I swear to you she will pay for what she's done, and we will bring peace back to Westeros.”

“Peace,” Lady Olenna laughed. “Do you think that's what we had under your father or his father or his? Peace never lasts, my dear.”

Dany shifted uncomfortably. _She hadn't seen Meereen. I made peace there._

“Would you take a bit of advice from an old woman?” Lady Olenna offered suddenly.

Dany nodded her head, anxious to see what she wanted to say.

“He's a clever man, your Hand. I've known a great many clever men. And I've outlived them all,” she explained. “Do you know why?”

Dany shook her head.

“I ignored them,” she said with a smile. “The lords of Westeros are sheep. Are you a sheep?”

Dany shook her head again.

Lady Olenna smiled widely. “No, of course not,” she agreed. She took Dany’s delicate hands in her own as she stated fiercely, “You're a dragon. _Be_ a dragon.”

After a few moments, Lady Olenna stood up. “If that’s all, Your Grace?”

Dany nodded. “Thank you.”

She watched as she exited the chamber, leaving Dany alone with her thoughts.

_How do I be a dragon when all fire and blood brings is death? How do I save the people of Westeros from themselves? Sometimes, I really hate being queen._


	11. JON IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon fumes about seeing Theon Greyjoy & prepares to meet Dany.

_You’ve got to be shitting me._

That was the thought that kept running through his head as Jon stared at the ceiling in his cabin. It had been almost a moon since Theon Greyjoy had picked him, Ser Davos, Arya, and a few other northmen to take them back to Dragonstone to meet Daenerys Targaryen. But the King in the North was not over seeing the person that single-handedly caused his family so much pain.

_Why the fuck would the Dragon Queen send Theon fucking Greyjoy to fetch us at White Harbor? Why not one of her Unsullied? Or Dothraki? Or for fuck’s sake, even Tyrion!_

Anger still boiled inside him as he thought about having to see that traitor cunt again. When he saw the Greyjoy ship, he thought it was a joke. _But no. He was to be our captain for a full fucking moon back to Dragonstone._ The moment he laid eyes on him, Jon ran and started beating the shit out of him. _I reckon I would’ve killed him if Davos and Arya didn’t pull me away._

But the main reason he didn’t was because of what he did for Sansa. _He saved her, so I saved him… this time._ Nothing made Jon happier than imagining Theon’s head on a spike for what he did to Robb. The coward attempted to apologize, but Jon didn’t want to hear it.

_“What’s ‘It should’ve been me’ good for if you’re alive and he’s dead?” he said back to Theon. “Nothing you’ll ever do will bring Robb back. Nothing. So, don’t even try.”_

Jon was so angry thinking about it that he didn’t realize that he dug his nails so deep into his palms that he drew blood. _Well, this Daenerys Targaryen must be a fucking idiot for sending him as my captain. I’m going to have a strong word with the Mother of Dragons about this bullshit._

But then he reminded himself that he’s there for one purpose and one alone: to get permission to mine the dragonglass. _And maybe win her armies to help fight._

He stood up to look out the small ship window as he noticed a small island coming into view. _We should be getting close._ Jon laid back down to take a nap to try and wash the thoughts of murdering Theon out of his mind. But just as he drifted off, Arya came bursting into his room unannounced.

“Seven hells!” he yelled in surprise at his sister.

“We’re here,” she said with excitement in her eyes. _We all know she’s excited to see the dragons._ She wouldn’t shut up about it the entire trip here; he realized that was the only real reason she insisted on coming in the first place. _Fuck the dragons, I just want to get back to the North with the dragonglass to win this war._

He nodded as she closed the door behind her, allowing him to get dressed and prepare himself.

_Prepare myself to meet the Dragon Queen._

After about thirty minutes, Theon dropped the anchor, and they were all preparing to board the wooden rowboats. Nervous wasn’t even close to describing how Jon was feeling; _one word. One word and I’m dead in an instant._ He felt a little more reassured with his sister and Davos by his side, but not really.

Eventually, they got into the boats and started moving towards shore. When they reached the sandy beaches, it did not take long for a small, familiar figure to waddle over to them. “The bastard of Winterfell!”

Jon smiled. “The dwarf of Casterly Rock,” he said gladly to Tyrion Lannister. They stared at each other for a brief moment before breaking into a smile and shaking hands. _A lot less tension than I anticipated._

Finally breaking free, Tyrion looked at him again. “I believe we last saw each other on top of the Wall.”

Jon chuckled at the humorous memory. “You were pissing off the edge, if I remember correctly,” he laughed. He met the eyes of the dwarf as he noticed the large scar cutting diagonal on his face. _Damn, what the fuck happened to him?_

“You picked up some scars along the road,” he acknowledged as he nodded his head towards it.

Tyrion nodded. “As did you,” he responded, motioning to the faint ones running from his temple to his cheek over his eyes.

Jon cracked a small, uncomfortable smile. _Way too many scars._

Sensing his discomfort, Tyrion turned to Davos. “I'm Tyrion Lannister,” he greeted as he stuck his hand out.

“Davos Seaworth,” he replied, shaking the dwarf’s hand.

“Arya’s also here…” Jon trailed off as he began looking for his sister. _What the fuck? She was just right behind me. Where the hell could she have gone?_

Tyrion’s face dropped. “Arya?”

“Yeah, my sister.”

“I-I thought she was dead.”

Jon smiled widely. “I did too.”

“Where are the bloody dragons?” a sudden female voice said from the opposite direction.

_Arya._

He glared at her as she took her place by his side.

Tyrion just stared in shock.

“I know you,” Arya suddenly stated as he looked at Tyrion. “You’re Tyrion Lannister. I remember meeting you at Winterfell before I left for King’s Landing with my father. Back before your idiot nephew took his head.”

Tension rose in the air as Jon gave her a small kick. His eyes read, _“What the fuck?”_ as Arya just continued to stare down the Lannister.

“Yes, that was horrible. I am still very sorry for your loss.”

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “Being sorry won’t bring him back.”

Tyrion shifted uncomfortably. “No, it won’t,” he acknowledged as he turned his attention to the small curly-haired girl standing behind him. “Ah, this is Missandei of Naath! She is the Queen’s most trusted advisor.”

Jon sighed. _Thank the gods we got off that subject._

She smiled warmly. “Welcome to Dragonstone. The Queen knows this is a long journey, and she appreciates the effort you have made on her behalf,” she stated happily as she moved her eyes down to Longclaw and Arya’s Needle. “If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons.”

Jon exchanges looks with Davos and Arya. _Oh, Arya won’t like this._

But Jon forced a fake smile. “Of course.”

He began untying his sword as Arya reluctantly handed over Needle. What Jon assumes were Dothraki guards took the weapons, but stopped and continued to stare at Arya. Their staring made Jon stare at her too. _What the seven hells is happening?_

“ _All_ of your weapons,” the girl Missandei finally emphasized.

_Oh._

Jon couldn’t help but crack a smile. _Of course, she was hiding extra weapons._

After a few tense moments, Arya finally rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she grunted as she pulled a knife from her boot and other various weapons from discrete places in her armor.

Missandei finally smiled as the Dothraki guards walked away. “Please, this way,” she motioned as she led them to a path that seemingly led up to the castle.

They all walked in silence for a few moments before Tyrion tried to maintain the small talk, “At some point I want to hear how a Night's Watch recruit became King in the North.”

He faked another smile. “As long as you tell me how a Lannister became the Hand to Daenerys Targaryen.”

He laughed. “A long and bloody tale. To be honest, I was drunk for most of it,” he confessed lightly.

Jon chuckled in response. “My bannermen think I'm a fool for coming here,” he stated more seriously.

“You _are_ an idiot,” Arya emphasized.

Jon shot her another look as Tyrion smiled uncomfortably.

“Of course, they do,” Tyrion understood. “If I was your Hand, I would have advised against it. General rule of thumb: Stark men don't do well in the South.”

“True,” Jon nodded. “But I'm not a Stark.”

Arya frowned. “That’s not—” she began to express, but was cut off by a massive roar from overhead.

Jon and Davos fell to the ground in concern as Arya just stood there in wonder as they all watched the large dragon fly overhead. _Holy fucking shit._ Jon’s jaw hit the ground as he continued to stare at the incredible beast, all while Missandei and Tyrion stood smirking.

“Wow,” he heard Arya day in astonishment. _The first positive words she’s said so far!_

But she wasn’t wrong. _They are magnificent. Terrifying, but magnificent._

He slowly stood up to get a better view as he watched the dragon meet up with the other two above the castle. He watched for a few moments the three dragons circling the castle as Tyrion smiled up at him.

“Come,” he motioned. “Their mother is waiting for you.”


	12. DAENERYS IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany meet for the first time.

“Big day, Your Grace,” Missandei said as she continued braiding Dany’s hair in the bath.

Dany stared blankly at the wall in front of her. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“I heard he’s quite handsome.”

Dany rolled her eyes. “I don’t care what he looks like as long as he bends the knee.”

Missandei retracted. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Dany just closed her eyes as enjoyed the last couple moments of peace and serenity she’d have for the day. It had been almost a moon since the Second Sons she brought to Westeros left with Ellaria Sand and Yara’s fleet for Wyr. About 20,000 Dothraki were also on their way to defeat the Lannister army on the Roseroad to prevent them from reaching Highgarden. Olenna Tyrell insisted she go along with them, despite Dany’s protests. _“I need to see the look in Jaime Lannister’s face when he realizes it’s all over,” she said._

Dany could understand that, but she still worried. _Where were they at this exact moment? Were they alright? Do they have enough food and supplies?_

The anxiety was immensely increased by this meeting with Jon Snow today. _If he declines my proposal, my entire plan for Westeros goes to shit. I need him to rule here. I need him to back me._

She pushed the thought out of her mind as she stood up to get dressed for the day. Missandei secured her Targaryen pins and brooches onto her black dress as Dany slipped her dragon rings onto her fingers. _The Mother of Dragons… how could the King in the North say no?_

After she was ready, she followed her friend out of the chamber to the throne room to wait for his arrival.

_I hope he’s not old and gray._

She has heard stories of his bravery from Varys’ little birds in battle — how he took back his home from the Bolton’s and avenged his sister. How he united the wildlings with the North… _there’s no way someone could do that so young. He has to be older than me. Much older._

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait too long once she sat on the throne because in a few short moments, the doors were being opened by the Unsullied. Her heart sank when she saw him… a slim man with brownish gray hair and a beard covered with gray. _I knew it. Why did I let myself get my hopes up?_

However, there were two more that walked through the door. A small girl, _at least I think it’s a girl… she kind of looks like a boy,_ and a young man about her age. Her eyes widened at the sight of him as her mouth went dry. _That’s… the King in the North._ Her heart fluttered at the thought, and relief washed through her that the old man wasn’t Jon Snow. No, it seemed to be the man standing in direwolf Stark armor looking straight at her with dark eyes and his lips slightly parted.

Missandei stood tall and proud as she announced her, “You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains, and the Mother of Dragons.”

Jon Snow shifted uncomfortably at the sound of all her titles. An awkward silence followed as she waited for him to be introduced as well. The young man turned to look at what she once thought was the King in the North.

The old man cleared his throat. “This is Jon Snow,” he said as he nodded towards him. “He's King in the North.”

Dany saw Tyrion smirk to himself at the sharp difference in titles.

“And this is my sister Arya Stark,” Jon Snow suddenly introduced.

Dany smiled at the girl with the long face, grey eyes, and brown hair. “Welcome to Dragonstone, Lady Arya,” she said warmly.

“I’m not a lady,” Arya responded coldly.

Dany shifted uncomfortably at the tense response.

“Arya!” Jon nudged her discreetly.

“What?” Arya snapped as she turned to look at Jon. “I’m no more of a lady than you are.”

Dany let out a tense laugh. “Well then, welcome… just Arya.”

The girl stared at her for a moment before nodding. _Damn, she’s a tough one._

Dany faked a smile. “Thank you for traveling so far, my lords and Arya. I hope the seas weren't too rough,” she said generously.

Jon Snow bowed his head. “The winds were kind, Your Grace.”

The man behind him stepped forward. “Apologies,” he said suddenly. “I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know. But Jon Snow is _King_ in the North, Your Grace. He's not a lord.”

Dany smirked. “Forgive me—” she began before she realized she did not know his name.

Luckily, Tyrion knew. “Your Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth.”

_Thank the gods._

“Forgive me, Ser Davos,” she completed finally. “I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torren Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the northmen. Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?”

Ser Davos Seaworth shrugged. “I wasn't there, Your Grace.”

She smirked again. “No, of course not,” she said with a slight attitude. “But still, an oath is an oath. In perpetuity means — what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?”

“Forever.”

She smiled firmly. “Forever,” she repeated. “So, I assume, my lord, that you're here to bend the knee.”

Jon shifted uncomfortably again. “I am not,” he croaked nervously.

Dany felt like she got hit in the stomach. _Why wouldn’t he bend the knee? Does he want my throne?_

“Oh, well, that is unfortunate. You've travelled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?” she challenged confidently; not letting them know how they hurt her pride.

Jon gave a slight laugh. “Break faith?” he challenged back hotly. “Your father burned my grandfather alive! He burned my uncle alive! He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms!”

Dany pursed her lips. _Fair._

“My father was an evil man,” she acknowledged. “On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you _not_ to judge a daughter by the sins of her father.”

She stared at Jon with a bit of desperation. _Please forgive us. Give me a chance to make things right._

Jon and Arya just continued to watch her curiously without showing emotion. _Either they love me or want to murder me. And for which one, I have no idea._

She sat up firmly to portray more confidence. “Our two houses were allies for centuries,” she emphasized. “Those were the best centuries the kingdom's ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

Jon nodded. “You're right. You're not guilty of your father's crime,” he agreed, but his eyes were dark. “And I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows.”

Anger shot through Dany again. _I don’t like him. He’s done nothing but insult me._ “Then why are you here?” she asked icily.

Jon straightened and his expression softened. “Because I need your help and you need mine.”

_What? How could we need his help?_ The pure thought just amused her as she smirked and looked towards Tyrion.

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?” she laughed.

Jon nodded. “I did.”

“And did you see the Unsullied, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?”

Jon cracked a smile. “They're hard to miss,” he attempted to joke, but Dany wasn’t amused. His smile quickly faded with her continued cold stare.

“But still, I need _your_ help?” she pressed.

Jon looked speechless, but luckily his Hand was there to save him.

“Not to defeat Cersei, Your Grace,” he explained carefully. “You could storm King's Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it and we didn't even have dragons.”

Tyrion’s eyes narrowed. “Almost,” he spat bitterly.

Finally, Jon came back to his senses. “But you haven't stormed King's Landing. Why not?” he asked her.

“It seems like you’re about to tell me,” she hissed.

But Jon wasn’t discouraged by her demeanor. “The only reason I can see is you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the war but you won't do it. Which means at the very least you're better than Cersei.”

Relief washed through Dany, cleansing all the anger she felt moments before towards this man. _I’m better than Cersei. He thinks I’m better than Cersei._ She kept her smile to herself, but her face softened at the compliment. “Still, that doesn't explain why I need your help,” she reminded him curiously. 

Jon cleared his throat. “You will need to gain the support of the people in order for your rule to be successful. The North is larger than all of the other seven kingdoms combined. And if that’s not enough, my sister has the support of the Vale. Seeing as you already have Dorne, Highgarden, and the Iron Fleet, you would have more than half of the country by your side with us. Cersei wouldn’t stand a chance, and the people would love you,” he explained.

Dany sat and pondered for a moment. _He’s right._ She exchanged looks with Tyrion, and he gave a small nod in agreement.

“So, what do you propose, _Your Grace_?” she said as she looked at Ser Davos to see his reaction at her correction of Jon’s title. She saw him gave a small smile before she turned her attention back to Jon.

“An alliance,” he said honestly. “I help you, and you help me.”

Dany furrowed her eyebrows. _Help with what?_ “Alright,” she agreed. “Say I agree to this alliance. You said you needed _my_ help as well. What for?”

“Aye,” Jon said. “To fight the dead.”

_What the fuck?_ Dany looked at him as if he had five heads. _Did I hear that right?_ “The _dead_ ,” Dany repeated skeptically.

Jon nodded. “I know how it must sound to you, but I swear it’s the truth. The Army of the Dead—”

_He’s fucking insane._

“Oh, it’s an _army_?” Tyrion said in mockingly disbelief.

Dany was finding it harder and harder to contain her laughter. _This man is literally standing in front of me asking me to fight dead men, and he looks deadass serious. What the fuck?_ She snickered to herself in response.

Jon’s face hardened. “I’m serious. We’re all just children playing a game of thrones screaming the rules aren’t fair while the enemy — the _real_ enemy — is out there marching on the Wall right now!” he shouted angrily.

Dany just simply stared at him in complete disbelief. _He’s a madman._ She could tell she was making him squirm with her lack of conversation, and she was enjoying that. Eventually, she put an end to his misery when she turned to her Hand. “Lord Tyrion, you told me you liked this man.”

Tyrion looked down at Jon uncomfortably. “I did say that,” he agreed reluctantly. _Maybe not as much anymore. The Wall changes people…_

“In the short time he’s been here, he’s asked for my armies and dragons to fight _dead men._ And now he’s here calling us all children for trying to save the realm from a tyrant,” she said, her voice thick with disbelief.

The sister’s face twisted in anger. “My brother is _not_ a liar!” she screamed as she turned to Tyrion. “You know him. My brother may be many things, but mad is not one of them.”

Dany turned to look at her Hand as he studied Jon’s face. “No, I don't think he is either of those things,” he confessed honestly.

Jon nodded in thanks. “The Army of the Dead is real. The White Walkers are real. The Night King is real,” he emphasized as he approached the throne. “I've seen them. If they get past the Wall and we're fighting amongst ourselves—”

The Dothraki guards stepped towards him, making him stop before he got too close to her. “—we’re finished.”

Dany stared harshly at him standing there on the steps. “The last time I checked when our enemy was dead, we no longer had to fear them.”

Jon nodded. “I know. But this is _real_. I’m begging you, Your Grace.”

She watched as his eyes pleaded _believe me. Please, believe me._

Dany tilted her head in curiosity. It was the first time she got a good look at his face — his hair the color of a raven’s wing was pulled back, but still accented his dark eyes that were pleading her to believe him. He had faint pink scars all over it, but it did not spoil his looks — _rather the opposite… they intrigue me._

She felt a surge of warmth roar through her body like wildfire, as if something was being brought back to life. _Something that’s been missing for a long time._ Her gaze suddenly softened, and she stood up to approach him.

“Your Grace— ” Tyrion began to protest, but Dany ignored him.

Jon looked up in surprise as she gazed at him in wonder.

“I was born at Dragonstone, you know,” she began as she continued to walk towards him. She smiled to herself as she said, “Not that I can remember it, of course.”

Jon nodded his head as Arya and Ser Davos continued to stare at her suspiciously. _I should be afraid, but I’m not. I feel… calm._

“We fled before Robert's assassins could find us,” she continued. “Robert was your father's best friend, no?”

Jon nodded his head again.

A slight surge of anger crept into her heart as she looked down at Ned Stark’s own seed. _His best friend took everything from me._ Her eyes narrowed. “I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib.” Arya went to reach for her absent sword as Jon tensed nervously. _But a son is not guilty of his father’s crimes…_

Her face softened at their responses. _I don’t know why, but I want them to like me. No… love me._ “Not that it matters now of course,” she said lightly.

Their gazes dropped as Jon sighed in slight relief. Her heart twisted at the fact he was worried she would hurt him. _Do they really think I’m a monster?_

“I spent my life in foreign lands,” she explained. “So many men have tried to kill me; I don't remember all of their names. I have been sold like a broodmare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?”

Jon was frozen in place as she came closer; eyes widening more and more with every step. The look in his eyes wasn’t fear… it was something she couldn’t quite place. She tilted her head in curiosity as she became inches away from his face. Her heart started racing, but she did not back down.

“Faith,” she said firmly. “Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen.”

He gulped, but a sign of respect washed over his face that made her heart uncharacteristically swell.

She pushed away the feeling as she continued, “Everyone believed dragons were gone from this world forever, and the ages turned the remaining eggs to stone. How many centuries has it been since dragons roamed the skies? But I dreamt that if I carried those eggs into a great fire, they would hatch. When I stepped into the fire, my own people thought I was mad — sometimes _I_ thought I was mad. But I believed in myself, and when the fire burned out, I was unhurt.”

She felt the eyes of Arya and Davos looking at her in shock, but she didn’t move an inch away from Jon. _I’m speaking directly to him._

“The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea — any sea — but they did for me. I freed the slaves in Essos, and they all fight for me today. Can’t you see?” she asked carefully. “I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will.”

Jon looked at her completely dumbfounded; just staring at her in wonder and complete silence. Arya looked to her brother to say something, but he never did.

After a few awkward moments, Ser Davos finally stood up. “We aren’t here to decline your claim to the throne. Hell, we’ll help you win the damn thing. But there won’t be anything to win if we’re all dead.”

Dany broke her eye contact with Jon finally, and looked towards the man.

Ser Davos straightened confidently. “So, if destiny has brought Daenerys Targaryen back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros. He was the first to make allies with Wildlings and northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Not because of his birthright. He has no birthright. He's a damn bastard,” he said passionately.

Jon looked towards his Hand awkwardly, and then turned his attention back to her. The look in his eyes changed… as if he was _embarrassed_ of something.

But Davos kept going. “All those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader because they believe in him! All those things you don't believe in, he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked his life for his people. He took a knife in the heart for his people. He gave his own— ”

However, the tension rose, and Jon gave Ser Davos such a fiery look that he stopped talking. She exchanged curious looks with Tyrion. _What was he talking about? How did he take a knife in the heart for his people and… survive? He had to be merely joking._

It was Arya that broke the silence. “I think what these two idiots are trying to say is that if we don’t all band together, we will die. And then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne,” she said fiercely.

_I like her._

Dany stood for a moment, but then she relaxed. “If I agree to help, what exactly can I do? We’re preparing a war against Cersei right now.”

Jon shook his head. “There's no time for that. There's no time for any of this—”

“Well it doesn’t matter if there’s _time_ because we sent armies to defend Highgarden against the Lannisters. I cannot just simply call them back!” she exclaimed angrily.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Well, figure it—” he started, but Davos cut him off.

“There’s dragonglass, Your Grace,” he interrupted quickly.

Dany furrowed her eyebrows. “Dragonglass?”

“Yes, under this castle. It — kills White Walkers.”

Dany looked from Davos to Jon for confirmation.

“Let us mine it,” Jon pleaded.

She continued to look at him curiously.

“You didn’t even know it was here; it has no real value to you. Please, even if you don’t believe me, it doesn’t hurt your cause,” he added.

“I will consider your proposal, Jon—” but she trailed off at the sight of Varys entering the throne room from behind.

“There’s been an attack on our Dornish ship. We need to have a council meeting immediately,” he whispered urgently.

Dany’s heart sank, but she nodded her head before turning back to their guests with a fake smile.

“You must forgive me; you have to be exhausted from your long journey down here,” she managed to say politely. “We'll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms.”

Jon raised his eyebrows in her change of tone. She ignored him and turned to the Unsullied guards to explain her instructions to them. Dany’s mind was racing… _how many ships were attacked? Did anyone die? What about the Dothraki on the Roseroad?_

Their guests began departing with the escort of her guards before Jon stopped and turned to her.

“Are we your prisoners?” he asked confidently, but his eyes had genuine fear in them.

_How could he think that?_

Despite her current situation, she gave an authentic smile. “No. At least, not yet,” she teased lightly.

Surprised by her reaction, Jon just stared at her in curiosity before turning around to follow his sister and Hand to their rooms. She smiled quietly to herself — _the King in the North… he’s interesting. Completely mad, but… interesting._

Dany snapped herself out of her trance before turning to Varys and Tyrion. “Call the council and meet in the Chamber of the Painted Table. I need to know everything.”

They both nodded and walked away to perform their duties. But Dany remained there for a moment; her mind still on the northern king. His raven black hair and brown eyes… a flash of warmth spread through her again and ended between her legs.

_What the fuck?_

She felt her mouth go dry as she pushed the feeling away. Dany gulped before forcing her feet to move after her advisors.

_But I don’t want to go after them. I want to talk more with the King in the North. What are these dead men he speaks of? What was the knife in the heart his Hand spoke of? What was his life story? What made him… him?_

She didn’t know why, but she was dying to know.


	13. JON V

"She was very pretty."

"Yeah, I guess," he played off. _Pretty isn't even the word for it. More like the bloodiest fucking gorgeous thing I ever saw in my life._

"And really smart too, I reckon," she offered. "I mean, did you hear all her titles?"

Jon rolled his eyes. "I'm not deaf." _When she got close to me and told me a bit of her story... I couldn't breathe. I wanted to kiss her right then and there. Everything she's been through... I want to kill everyone who ever hurt her._

_His sister had come to his bedchamber out of boredom since Daenerys' soldiers left them. And although he had only met her once, he couldn't stop his mind from drifting to her silver hair... her amethyst eyes that he swore could see right through him._

"So?" she asked, breaking his train of thought.

"So what?"

She grunted. "What do you think of her? You haven't said a word all day since we came back here!" Arya whined.

Jon shrugged. "There's nothing to say." _That's a lie. She's perfect. I swear, the gods made her themselves..._

Arya's eyes lit up with surprise. "You like her!"

Jon blinked in confusion as he looked up at his favorite sibling. "What?"

Arya stepped closer with a wicked smile on her face. "You like her!" she exclaimed again. "You totally do. I see it in your eyes!"

Jon's jaw dropped as his cheeks turned red. "You're being ridiculous," he attempted to say confidently, but his emotions betrayed him.

She snorted. "You're the worst liar I ever heard Jon. I've never seen it in your eyes, but growing up with Robb and Theon, I know what it looks like. You _like_ her. You want to kiss her and love her and fuck her—" she was teasing before Jon came over and covered her mouth.

"Arya shut the fuck up!" he yelled; his eyes wild with embarrassment. "Someone could hear you!"

_Do I want to fuck her? Sure, I bet she'd look incredible without that black dress... her hair out of her braids, just waking up in the morning..._

His mouth went dry at the mouth as he swallowed and pushed the thoughts away.

"So, you don't?" Arya challenged.

Jon didn't meet her eyes. "Not about to discuss it with _you_."

Arya started laughing. " _Gods_ , you have it bad. Robb would be so proud if you right now..."

Jon rolled his eyes as annoyance from embarrass rose through him. "Arya, just stop," he howled as he slammed his fist on the table nearby. "I never said any of that. And even _if_ I did like her — and only if — it wouldn't matter because we're in the middle of the most important war in centuries. We don't have time to be falling in love and starting families—"

"Starting families?" Arya echoed in surprise. "Seven hells, you are in deep."

A wave of embarrassment came across his face as he stared into his little sister's amused eyes. "As I said," he coughed to wet his throat again, "it doesn't matter. I'm a bastard anyways, and she's the queen. She'd never want anything to do with me. I-I have nothing to give her."

Arya's face fell. "Now _you're_ being ridiculous. You're a _king_ ,Jon, and one of the greatest men in the Seven Kingdoms. She'd be bloody honored to have anyone half as good as you."

He gave a small smile. "Just drop it, okay? We came for dragonglass and her armies. Nothing more..."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, _Your Grace_. Your secret is safe with me."

"There's no secret to keep. I never agreed with anything you said," he called after her as she made her way to the door to go back to her chamber.

She turned around and smirked. "But you didn't deny it either."

And that was when Arya left him alone with his thoughts for the first time all day. He made his way to the bed and laid down; it was softer than the one he was used to back in Winterfell. He just stared at the ceiling and let his mind wander to the beautiful silver queen he couldn't get out of his mind. He thought of a life by her side—serving her, loving her, bedding her, giving her children. He imagined the night he'd take her under his protection at the weirwood tree in Winterfell, pledging her his heart and soul forever. _And then taking her small body in my arms, getting tangled in the furs as she sings out in the pleasure I'm giving her._ And then getting to do that every night for the rest of his life... eventually allowing his seed to take root in her womb and creating life. He smiled at the thought of her belly swelling with a child. _My child._

The mere thought made his heart race so fast he forgot how to breathe. He immediately stood up to try and get some air by the window... clenching his hands against the metal balcony as the smell of the salty sea filled his nostrils. The feelings of happiness and bliss were quickly replaced with hopelessness and self-hatred. _She'd never love you. You're just a bastard. Stop being so stupid, Jon. You're nothing compared to her._

But it wasn't the fact he wished these things with her... it was that he wished them at _all._ For years he praised himself for never letting love and lust get in the way of his honor and judgment like other men _._

_Ygritte was my only real moment of weakness, but even then I stayed loyal to the Night's Watch. But Daenerys Targaryen... seven hells, there's a part of me that would marry her right on the spot if she asked._

And that's when it dawned on him the depths of his feelings. These completely foreign feelings that he repressed for so long, but they were there.

The desire to _be_ desired.

Just like when he was a little boy, and he longed for Lady Catelyn Stark to love him like a son. To look at him the way she looked at Robb. _The way a mother should look at her son._

But he was always an outcast—a complication that was always unwanted everywhere. A small tear formed in his eye as the feeling was so overwhelming he felt he would explode. And that's when he knew he wasn't different; he was plagued with the same emotions all men faced.

But more importantly, he realized Arya was right — he wanted more than a political alliance with her.

_I want her. All of her, unconditionally._

_And I want her to want me in return._

He craved for her to look at him like he was her man... and _want_ him as a woman wants a man. Jon wanted her to kiss him and tell him she loved him; to wake up next to her every morning; to build a home with her. A _real_ home. Not like the one he had in Winterfell or the Night's Watch. A simple, loving family. How she'd make such a great mother... such a great wife.

A wave of embarrassment pulsed through him as he was smacked back into reality. _Gods, this is embarrassing. There's no way she will ever want me. For how could she ever learn to love a bastard?_

Anxiety started tingling through his veins and trickled down to his toes as he thought of another man stealing her heart. _Did she come here already in love with someone else?_

_Who does she love?_

_Does she have someone waiting on her?_

The lingering questions kept him up, and the next thing he knew he was pacing back and forth. He tried to go back to his bed, but he couldn't stay still long enough to try and fall asleep. He just kept watching the moon in the sky, and how he just couldn't wait for it to fade into the morning light so he could see her again.

_For in the morning I'll get to see her beautiful face again. Maybe get to talk to her again. Maybe... stand close to her again._

Jon looked out at the sea one more time before turning around to force himself to get some sleep. The three dragons roared in the dead of night as Jon smiled.

_This woman is a miracle. And I just met her, but I can't stop thinking about her._


	14. DAENERYS V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany is informed about the fate of Yara's fleet while her mind lingers around the King in the North.

Dany rushed up the stairs to the Chamber of the Painted Table, leaving echoing footsteps in her wake. Theon, Varys, Tyrion, Grey Worm, and Missandei followed after her and filled in their spots around the table.

“What happened?” Dany demanded darkly.

“It seems Yara’s fleet was attacked by her uncle, Euron,” Varys explained.

Dany sighed. “How many ships did we lose?”

“Only three,” he said blankly.

Dany looked at the Spider skeptically. “This is good news,” she said with speculation. “Isn’t it?”

Tyrion and Varys exchanged uneasy looks. “They captured Ellaria, and the Sand Snakes are either dead or captured as well.”

Dany felt like she got hit in the stomach. _We may have just lost Dorne because of me._ “And Yara?” she said quietly.

“Managed to escape, Your Grace,” Tyrion said. “She is continuing her journey with the Second Sons to Dorne.”

Theon smiled. “Yara is a great captain, Your Grace.”

She sighed in relief. “I know,” she said with a smile. “But we will need to rescue Ellaria.”

Tyrion twisted his face in disagreement. “Your Grace—”

Dany stared at her Hand in disbelief. “You can’t be serious,” she spat. “We cannot let her and her daughters just sit there and rot in the dungeons of King’s Landing! They will be tortured by Cersei!”  
Tyrion shifted uncomfortably. “I know this is hard, but we cannot just storm King’s Landing.”

Dany slammed her hand on the table in frustration. _I am the Queen. What good is that if I cannot even protect my own allies?_

She gulped in an attempt to clear her mind. “We need to find Euron Greyjoy's fleet and sink it,” she said firmly.

Varys shook his head in protest. “Your Grace, he's already destroyed some of our fleet. To send our remaining ships after him—”

Dany’s eyes narrowed. “I'm not talking about sending our ships after him,” she hissed darkly.

It was as if the air was sucked out of the room; the silence was screaming so loud. Everyone was just looking at her intensely, but a hint of fear was in their eyes.

“But you'll have to go yourself!” Tyrion finally protested. “Euron's ships could be anywhere or in more than one place. You'd be flying around the open seas alone for who knows how long!”

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn't be alone,” she reminded them. “I'd have Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal. What can anyone do to them?”

Everyone looked around blankly. _They don’t know._

But it was Missandei that spoke up. “They can still do something to _you_ , Your Grace,” she said softly. “It only takes one arrow.”

Tyrion nodded his head vigorously. “It's too great a risk. You're too important.”

 _They’re right._ She sighed in defeat as she looked down at the table; the North was in front of her. _What if…_

“What about Arya Stark?” she asked curiously, her eyes full of hope.

Tyrion furrowed his eyebrows. “What about her?”

“You said she was a Faceless Man, right?” Dany asked Varys directly.

He nodded.

“Can’t she sneak in and save Ellaria and her children?”

Tyrion and Varys exchanged looks again, but they both shrugged.

“It would be extremely dangerous,” Tyrion said reluctantly.

Dany rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that. But _would_ it work?”

“Theoretically,” Varys said. “Yes.”

Dany gave a slight smile. “I will speak to the King in the North tomorrow. But for now, we all need some rest. It has been a long day.”

Everyone muttered in agreement and proceeded out the room until Dany was standing there alone over the table. She looked down at the markings of Winterfell her ancestors had painted… _had it really looked like that? What was it like there? Does it snow all the time, or just in the winter?_

However, her concentration was broken at the sound of Tyrion’s voice.

“Your Grace?” he asked.

She looked up at the dwarf. “What can I do for you, Lord Tyrion?”

“Jon Snow is a good man.”

Dany rolled her eyes. “He’s a madman.”

Tyrion pursed his lips in protest. “I don’t think so.”

She looked at him as if he had grown five heads. “You can’t be serious. Did you not hear him talking about dead men? Or am I just imagining things?”

“No, Your Grace, you are not hearing things,” he acknowledged. “But I don’t think we should just disregard him right away. He is one of the most loyal men I’ve ever met. If we get him to bend the knee, he will stop at nothing to see you on the throne. And he’s _good_ , my Queen. Fundamentally and morally good. That is a rare quality to have in Westeros.”

She looked around impatiently. “What do you suggest I do?”

“Give him the dragonglass. It has no use to us; we didn’t even know it was there,” he suggested desperately. “Give him a reason to put his faith in you.”

She gave a slight smile. _He was there to help his people, not himself. He did not throw himself at me like most men. He’s… different._ “Alright, I will consider it,” she agreed. “But I want to speak to him.”

Tyrion smirked.

She furrowed her eyebrows in response. “What?”

He gave a slight laugh. “Nothing, Your Grace,” he lied.

Dany rolled her eyes.

“It’s just,” he began calmly. “You two couldn’t take your eyes off each other.”

She could feel her cheeks turning red from embarrassment. “We were _talking_. That normally involves looking at them,” she denied firmly.

His smirk grew larger as he stood up to leave. “Nothing safe is worth the ride, Your Grace,” he told her. “Goodnight.”

She looked at him curiously. _What does that mean?_ “Goodnight, Lord Tyrion. I look forward to speaking with you _and_ Jon Snow.”

He nodded, and Dany watched as he walked out the door quietly. _And I meant it. I can’t wait to see Jon Snow again._

When she eventually got back to her bedchamber, the King in the North was still running around her mind. _Nothing safe is worth the ride._ As she laid there in bed, she craved him. Craved his touch, his love. _I wonder how he looks under all that amour. Would he ever love someone like me?_

She craved for him to look at her like she was his woman… and _want_ her as a man wants a woman. _I don’t know what Tyrion was talking about when he said he was staring at me. He probably loves someone else._ Anxiety started tingling through her veins at the thought of another woman stealing his heart.

_Who does he love?_

_Does he have someone waiting on him?_

The lingering questions kept her up, and the next thing she knew she was pacing back and forth. And when her mind finally stopped racing, she managed to go back to her bed and drift off into an uneasy sleep.

For she had the dream again — the dream she always had; the one about the mysterious shifting shadow. She found herself once again at what she assumed was the throne room in the Red Keep. However, the Lannister lions behind the throne to indicate Cersei’s House were destroyed, and there was nothing left standing but the Iron Throne singularly. But it wasn’t empty—no, it was the man she always saw. The dark-haired man with a face of a shifting shadow; the one she had dreamt about almost every night for many moons now.

And he was holding a… baby. One with blonde hair and violet eyes… the Targaryen features that she could see even from this far away.

_I’m the last Targaryen, so this is impossible. I can never have children…_

She felt a surge of anger at the gods for mocking her desire to be loved, to have children.

_Who is this man who I long to see with the child I long to have?_

And in that moment, she didn’t even care he was sitting on her throne. No, all that mattered was a sense of family. _Her_ family.

Drogon moved over to sniff the baby’s head. Fear flooded through her body — _even if the baby is a Targaryen, the man is not. Drogon will burn him alive!_

But the dragon didn’t. Instead, Drogon allowed the man to… pet him. Dany’s face fell in shock. _This is completely absurd. None of this is possible. Why are the gods torturing me?_

She began walking closer to her child and the man with the baby as she noticed blue roses beginning to grow from the ground as she got closer to him. The attraction she had to the shadow got stronger and stronger with each step, and she did not know why.

“Who are you?” she cried desperately as she approached the throne.

She nuzzled Drogon’s snout before looking down at the precious child with violet eyes staring back at her in the man’s arms. Dany smiled as tears filled her eyes; oh, no one could understand how much she wanted a child of her own. She eventually looked up to meet the dark gaze of the shadow she longed to see to realize it was that no longer. No, it was a face of a man. A real man.

That of the man she had just met for the first time that day.

The King in the North.

Jon Snow.

And with that, she jolted up in bed, covered in her own sweat and panting heavily.

_Jon Snow? Why was he there? Just because my brain was wandering to the events of today? Just because I’m stressed about the Ellaria situation?_

Thoughts pounded her head so violently that she needed to stand up to get air. However, she couldn’t even stand still long enough to gaze out the window. She just kept pacing—back and forth, back and forth—as his name echoed through her mind.

_Jon Snow._

He was gorgeous — anyone with eyes could see that. _But he is a madman. He’s completely insane with the talks of dead men. It couldn’t be true… or was it?_

She swore she saw true fear in those brown eyes, _and fear doesn’t lie._

The thoughts of him, Ellaria, Yara, _him_ , Cersei, Arya, _him_ kept plaguing her mind to the point she wanted to scream. When she looked out the window to see it was pitch black… daybreak was still a long way away.

But she decided she couldn’t wait that long.

_No, I can’t wait that long to see his face again. I need to know more about these things he saw north of the Wall. I need to know how the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch became King in the North. I need to know if Arya Stark will help save Ellaria from Cersei. I need to know if he’ll bend the knee. I need to know what it was like growing up in Winterfell. I need to know what his brother was like, his mother, his father. I need to know what his favorite food is, and how he sounds when he wakes up in the morning. I need to know… everything._

So, before she even knew what she was doing, she slipped her pink silk nightgown over her head and proceeded out the door. She didn’t even bother to brush her hair or put on shoes—she knew she probably looked like a wreck. _Definitely not Queenly. But that’s what I want, isn’t it? To show him there’s a human side to Daenerys Stormborn. That I’m not a power-hungry monster. That I want to make the world a better place…_

Her thoughts were interrupted when she ran into the Unsullied outside her door standing guard.

“Your Grace?” they asked in confusion.

Dany cleared her voice. “I need to speak to the King in the North.”

“Your Grace, it’s in the dead of night. Surely it can wait until morning light?” the guard asked kindly.

Dany rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I’m afraid it cannot. Tell him his Queen _demands_ to see him.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably.

“ _Now._ ”

They nodded and began walking towards his bedchamber. Dany paused for a few moments, playing with her fingernails out of anxiety before deciding to follow them.

“Your Grace?” the guards turned around again, completely confused by her presence.

Dany look a deep breath as she stood tall. “I’m coming with you. I will meet him there.”

They gave reluctant head nods before proceeding onward.

She followed them for a few moments before realizing how horrible of an idea this was. _Gods, he’s going to hate me for waking him up._ But she was already committed now, since at that very moment the Unsullied stopped and started banging on the wooden door in front of them.

And she just closed her eyes and prayed to all the gods he would answer.


	15. JON VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon receives a visitor.

That night, he dreamt the same dream he always had. He began by riding a great green dragon with golden speckles, roaring through the air as if he was Aemon the Dragonknight himself. Eventually, he landed on the same plain field with a big house with a red door and lemon trees on it. He'd never tell anyone this, but it was always his favorite part. Because just about now... he heard it. That infectious laughter of children that grew as he approached. He smiled as he ducked under the lemon branch to get attacked by those gorgeous children he loved so much.

"PAPA!" they screamed as the one jumped into his arms.

Anticipating the attack, he grabbed the silver-haired little girl and swung her through the air, getting a thrill out of making her smile so wide. He knew it was just a dream, but she felt so real. _It all_ felt so real. He looked into those beautiful violet eyes as his heart skipped a beat in realization.

Those are...

But he was cut off by the little boy who looked just like him. "Look Papa! Look what I found!" he screamed excitedly while tugging on his pant leg. As he put the little girl down, he recognized those violet eyes in the boy as well. His heart started beating faster and faster as there was only one person in the world that had eyes like that...

But there was the enchanting voice that came from behind again.

"Come children! Let Papa take a breath before joining us," it sang sweetly.

_That voice._

And when he looked up, he no longer needed to ask her identity, for he already knew.

"Dany," he whispered in shock as he looked upon the silver-haired woman who was peeling the same lemons under the tree.

But she didn't hear him for she was just a ghost. _A product of my own imagination._ But even though this was a dream, he never wanted it to end. The dream of having a family with her was better than any reality he could think of. _Unless, of course, this was real._

He craved to kiss her, touch her, love her. For Daenerys Targaryen was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, _and I never want this to end._

However, the scene did dissipate as a _bang!_ echoed through his room. He shot up in bed, covered in his own sweat, in complete surprise and fear. _What the fuck was that?_

It happened again; but this time he recognized it to be someone knocking on his door. When he looked outside, he saw it was the dead of night. _Who the fuck would want me at this hour? Daybreak is hours away._

He groaned as he realized who it was: _fucking Arya._

"Seven hells Arya!" he grumbled loudly as he got up to answer the door. "It's the fucking dead of night. Can't you wait until—"

But when he opened the door, it wasn't his little sister.

It was Unsullied soldiers.

_Holy fuck, she's actually going to execute me._

His face dropped as he stood there in only his smallclothes, completely embarrassed. The Unsullied soldiers gave no reaction to the situation, which made Jon squirm.

He gulped. "I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else..." he said nervously.

They just stared blankly. "The Queen wants to see you."

_I'm an idiot for coming down here. I should've listened to Sansa. But here I am, completely useless, about to be executed by a Targaryen like my uncle and grandfather._

He managed a nod. "I... let me get dressed first," he stumbled.

They grunted but allowed him to look more presentable. _At least if I'm going to die, let it be with honor and not half-naked._ He dressed as quickly as he could before opening the door again and nodding. He braced himself for them to seize him...

But they didn't.

Instead, they just parted to allow a small girl in pink to approach him. Jon's eyes widened with surprise as he recognized Daenerys Targaryen walking towards him. They had been face-to-face earlier that day, but that was with all her brooches, braided hair and fancy dresses. All that had been stripped away... and all that's left was just an innocent woman staring at him with her big violet eyes and messy silver hair from sleep. He felt a shot of heat spread through him and land between his legs once again.

"Can I come in?" she asked politely.

Jon continued to stare in shock for a little longer than he should have before getting himself together to answer. He nodded as he attempted to wet his throat. "Aye, of course," he croaked.

She looked at him curiously before entering, him holding the door for her. He stared at the Unsullied guards, waiting for them to follow, but they didn't. After it became clear she wanted to talk to him alone, he closed the door reluctantly.

"I hope your accommodations are sufficient Your Grace," she began calmly.

Shutting the door firmly, he looked over to see her wandering about his bedchamber. Her hair was long — almost halfway down her back — and that sheer pink nightgown fit her small, curvy frame perfectly. The way it rose and fell with the shape of her rear... how it fit so nicely between her breasts that the smallest bit of cleavage showed.

_Seven hells she's so fucking beautiful._

Another shot of warmth spread through him as he felt his heart beat faster and faster. _And I bet she'd look even better without it on..._

However, his fantasizing stopped at the sound of her voice. "Your Grace?" she asked softly.

He managed to tear his eyes away in embarrassment as he looked at her with confusion. _What was she saying? I don't even know._

She gave a small smile. "Your accommodations. Are they—"

 _Ah._ He nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes they are; I'm sorry, Your Grace," he answered finally, completely embarrassed.

She shook her head. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry for waking you," she said as she looked to his messy bed. He swore he almost heard a bit of embarrassment in _her_ voice as well. _No, that's impossible. I'm just hearing things now._

"You didn't wake me!" he insisted, although it was a blatant lie.

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "It's a great crime to lie to a queen, you know."

His face fell. _She's going to kill me._ "I'm sorry. You did wake me, but I swear I don't mind—" he began apologizing when she cut him off.

"A joke," she interrupted. "Not a very good one though, I'm afraid."

He sighed in relief. "Oh," he laughed. He swore he saw a quick flash of a smile on her face too, but in a second it was gone. "And call me Jon."

She looked up at him with curious eyes. "But you're a king."

He snorted. "I'm also a bastard. I don't deserve that crown; it should've been my brother's. I don't particularly like the honor," he confessed honestly.

_Why the fuck did I just tell her all of that?_

Embarrassment washed over him as he waited for a response. She stared at him curiously again, _what is she thinking behind those violet eyes?_

"A crown is a heavy burden to wear. I don't think anyone likes it, to be honest. Well, unless you're Cersei Lannister," she said seriously.

He dared to give a small smile. "I think you wear yours quite well, Your Grace."

And suddenly, his heart skipped a beat when she let out a smile. A real smile, not one just for political gain. _Gods, I'd say that over and over to get her to smile at me like that again._

"Well thank you," she replied bashfully.

He continued to stare at the beautiful girl in front of him with wide eyes. _I'd give anything to be able to look at her like this every day of my damn life._

However; the smile suddenly faded, and her face turned serious again. "I came to ask a favor, Jon Snow."

He looked at her in confusion. _A favor? What could I possibly give her that she doesn't already have?_

Sensing his confusion, she kept going. "My advisors tell me that your sister Arya is a Faceless Man."

He nodded, unsure where this was going. "Aye, she is."

"Ellaria Sand — my ally from Dorne — was captured when Euron Greyjoy attacked our fleet yesterday. She was the one that killed Cersei's daughter, and Varys says they're keeping her in the black cells under the Red Keep for her to torture," she explained.

 _Oh._ He stared at her blankly to continue.

"As a result," she said as she began walking to his bed to sit down, "I do not want to leave my allies stranded. I want to rescue Ellaria Sand, but I cannot just storm King's Landing. I was wondering if your sister could use her — _talents_ — to rescue her."

 _Whatever I expected; it wasn't that._ "W-What?"

"She could take the face of a guard and—"

Jon made a face. "Your Grace, if I may, why don't _you_ just go yourself?" he challenged as he walked to stand in front of her on the bed. _I don't want Arya risking her life for this person._

Daenerys grabbed her hair and shook it. "I think I'd be recognized," she spat.

He sighed. _She's right._

"And before you ask," she began as he took a breath, "Varys and Tyrion both worked in the capital. All of us would be recognized instantly. Perhaps you could go, but Arya can become _anyone._ We wouldn't need to worry about her being recognized."

Jon shifted uncomfortably.

_I understand her point, but we just met her. How do I know she is being serious? What if this is a trap? Will I ever forgive myself if my baby sister dies for some reckless mission?_

He looked at her pleading eyes and his face softened a bit. "I will ask her," he finally said with some hesitation as he sat down on the bed next to her. _Gods, I will regret this._

She gave a slight smile. "I can ask her; I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be furious with me."

Jon looked up at her with surprise. "Why?"

She looked at him curiously. "Because it seemed like the right thing to do."

He gulped as he felt the temperature in the room raise a thousand degrees. There she was — Daenerys Targaryen — sitting next to him on _his_ bed in all her beauty. And gods, she was beautiful. He never wanted to let her leave this room. The familiar shot of heat flew through him and landed in between his legs again, hitting harder this time. He could feel his sex groaning for release below; he just rolled his head to relax some muscles and attempt to calm his racing heart rate down.

"So that's what you came for?" Jon asked curiously. "To ask me for permission to ask Arya? In the dead of night?"

If he didn't know better, a wave of embarrassment washed over her face. He swore in the moonlight he could even see the redness in her cheeks from flushing... as if he caught her in a lie. His mouth went as dry as a desert at the thought, making him crave her even more.

He swallowed. "Why did you really come, Your Grace?" he asked softly, knowingly gazing into her eyes with lust or love. _I don't know which one. Maybe both._

She stared at him with her lips slightly open, memorizing his face. "I don't know," she confessed quietly. "But this is treacherous."

He unknowingly moved closer to her. "What is, Your Grace?" he challenged. He wanted to know; he _needed_ to know.

Her eyes locked with his, only momentarily gazing down to his lips. "The hopes I have right now," she whispered.

His heart started racing faster as he felt his sex enlarging in his breeches, unable to contain himself any longer. "And what are those?" he asked back just as softly.

She moved even closer to him. "Many things," she confessed.

"Like what?"

"You thought I came to murder you, didn't you?"

Jon gulped. _I can't lie to her._ "Aye, I did think that."

Their faces were inches apart, and Jon could barely breathe anymore.

"But not anymore?" she asked innocently in a way that made Jon want to rip that damn dress off her and take her right there on the edge of the bed.

"No, not anymore," he confessed, his eyes not coming off her plump pink lips. "Now I fear something greater."

_I fear that I'm falling for someone that I just met, and I'm completely mad for it._

She watched him curiously still; her pupils fully dilated in the moonlight. "And what do you fear now?" she tempted, daring to get even closer to him.

_This is it. She is going to kiss me. Holy fuck._

Her mouth opened with the promise of it, making his cock rage below him begging for release. _Release inside her._ Her eyes showed such intent that he swore he could taste her sweet lips on his.

"Nothing safe is worth the ride, Jon Snow," she whispered so seductively he didn't know how much longer he could resist.

He shook his head lightly. "I don't think this is safe."

He leaned in, begging for her lips to finally meet his...

But they never did.

"I-I should go," she breathed softly.

Disappointment and rejection tore through him as he sat back and looked at the girl. It was strange because she looked disappointed as well. _Did she want me to kiss her? Was she just waiting for me as I was waiting for her?_

Regret crept through his mind as he nodded his head reluctantly. "Aye, it'll be daybreak soon," he managed, gesturing towards the window.

After hesitating for a moment, she stood up. "I will see you then, Jon Snow."

He nodded sadly as he could feel his sex ache from not being relieved. _Gods I'm such a fucking coward._ He watched as she began to make sure way towards the door.

However, she paused halfway through. "I-I'm sorry that I woke you," she said, the disappointment clear in her voice.

Jon could feel his heart breaking at her sorrow. _Sorrow because I'm a fucking coward who couldn't just go the extra inch and close the gap between us and kiss her like she should've been._

He attempted to give a small smile. "Don't be sorry. I'm really happy you came."

Her eyes widened with surprise. "Really?" she said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

He nodded joyously, and that smile he loved so much crept across her face in response.

"Goodnight Jon," she said, that smile still plastered on her face as she knocked on the door to let the Unsullied know she was ready.

"Goodnight Dan— I mean, Your Grace," he said, embarrassed that he tried to call the Queen by her first name. _No, a nickname. Dany._

The Unsullied opened the door for her as she proceeded out, but she stopped for a quick smile. "Call me Daenerys."

Jon smiled widely at the notion and watched as the door closed behind her. He looked out the window to see the beginnings of the sunrise come into the sky.

_Only a few more hours until I get to see her again._

The thought of her beautiful face being so close to his made his heart swell outside his chest as he collapsed back on the bed.

_Gods, Daenerys Stormborn. What have you done to me?_


	16. DAENERYS VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany reflects.

That next morning, she woke agitated at the night before. _How stupid I was to go see the King in the North. I showed him too much vulnerability… letting him get close to me; letting myself have treacherous desires._ Although she was angry with herself, she couldn’t deny how frustrated she was at Jon Snow. _Why hasn’t he bent the knee? Why does he speak of dead men and not Cersei Lannister? Why won’t he make me his Queen?_

His Queen.

Surely just the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Not _his_ Queen, making him _her_ King. _Or do I?_ The thought suddenly surprised and scared her. _Never in my life have I desired a man in the way I desire him. To be desired_ by _him._

She groaned in frustration as Dany suddenly heard her door open. She perked up in surprise, ignoring a deep desire for it to be the man she told herself she loathed, only for it to be Missandei. Dany faked a smile as her heart sank into her stomach in disappointment as she shook the feeling away, returning it to the dark depths of which it came. _Why do I care if he shows up? He didn’t bend the knee. I mean nothing to him, as he means nothing to me._

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Missandei greeted happily.

“Good morning,” she replied, slipping herself out of bed to allow her best friend to begin her intricate braiding for the day.

“Which one, Your Grace?” Missandei asked sweetly, holding up two conservative dresses to wear for the day.

Dany pursed her lips before she shook her head. _Neither. I want something that… shows more skin._ “Do we still have the one that I wore when we began sailing to Westeros?” she asked seriously.

Missandei eyed her suspiciously. “Yes, I believe so. But that shows much more skin; won’t you be cold, my Queen?”

Dany blushed. “A dragon does not get cold.”

Missandei’s lips curled up into a small smirk as she turned to look in the dark wardrobe for her desired dress. After a few moments, she emerged with the familiar dark navy dress. Embroidered with dragons on the sleeves with a silver strap holding the fabric together to make a small V-shape, it was the perfect amount of cleavage to show for a queen. _The perfect amount to tempt a king._

After she dressed, Dany smoothed the fabric as Missandei clipped the final cloak over her shoulders. In a world filled with strong men that always tried to undermine her, it was nice to spend time with her only female friend. _Someone who understands._

But no one could possibly understand the King in the North. But although his refusal to bend the knee infuriated her to the core, she couldn’t deny how it intrigued her, giving her a new kind of foreign anger. She also couldn’t deny how bloody handsome he was — that brooding, dark stare and muscular body that she craved to feel against her own. _Too_ damn handsome.

But she was the Queen; she had no time to spend daydreaming about a man who surely did not daydream about her. No, he feared her. The Dragon Queen. Fire and blood were all he saw in her.

Dany suddenly longed to be just a silly maiden that could swoon over her king without consequence. When she was a girl, she was expected to marry her abusive older brother Viserys, which she dreaded until he sold her to Khal Drogo. She remembered how terrifying he was with his Dothraki bloodriders and savage ways until she figured out how to tame him. It was only then she allowed herself to fall into a deep love, despite it being rooted in terror.

Dany smiled at the thought of Daario, with his boldness and rebellious personality that made her crave him as a lover. She enjoyed their time together, but the lust eventually wore out, leaving nothing left as she sailed away to Westeros.

But Jon Snow was different.

And before she could stop herself, she asked, “So what do you think of this Jon Snow?”

Missandei perked up behind Dany’s braids as she smiled. “I think he is a good man. His motives are clear; he couldn’t lie to save his life,” she offered.

Dany rolled her eyes. “All men lie,” she reminded her friend. “And Jon Snow is no exception. No matter how honorable he may seem.”

She shrugged. “Possibly,” she offered. “But I don’t think so.”

Dany frowned at the response and Missandei smiled. “And I believe he fancies you,” she finished slyly.

She blushed slightly. _What an innocent girl; the King in the North doesn’t fancy me._ “Jon Snow does not fancy me!” she protested.

“Your Grace,” Missandei said honestly, “how could he not?”

Dany smirked at the thought. _What a dream that would be._ “Did you notice his eyes?”

Her friend shook her head.

Dany settled back into the chair as she smiled, thinking about his face in the moonlight last night. “In the throne room they looked as dark as a raven wing, but they’re actually a deep brown. A brown so deep you could just fall into…” she trailed off, a flash of heat spreading through her body and landing between her legs.

Missandei’s eyes lit up with surprise. “Your Grace!” she exclaimed with a giggle.

Dany allowed herself to smile slightly. “Never tell anyone I said that,” she squeaked, suddenly embarrassed by her outburst.

Her friend watched her seriously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Dany couldn’t help but giggle as well, for in that moment she was the little girl who was free to daydream without consequences. She allowed her mind to drift to his hulking figure, awkward demeanor, raspy northern accent that made her heart skip faster than it should…

But her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of her own door opening again. Foolishly, her heart swelled at the hope it would be Jon but was once again let down at the sight of her own Hand.

“Are you ready, Your Grace?” Tyrion asked softly, his eyes traveling down the more revealing dress she was wearing. He looked up at her suspiciously, but Dany ignored him as she stood up.

She nodded before giving her thanks to Missandei for her hair. Dany used the Dothraki tradition of a braid for every victory in battle, and it used to be easy when she only conquered two or three cities many moons ago. However, now with her endless victories, making them all fit on her head was quite a difficult task. _But Missandei never fails._

Dany made her way to the exit where she began walking next to Tyrion down the hall. With every step, her heart began to beat faster — _one more step. One more step closer to seeing Jon Snow again._ But then she’d get angry at herself for thinking of him in the first place. _I have a war to win. A prisoner to rescue. A kingdom to rule. And yet I’m here thinking about the stupid foreign king again._

She cursed herself as she heard Tyrion clear his throat to break the awkward silence.

“Have you given any thought to allowing Jon Snow to mine the dragonglass?”

The thought brought her back into the reality where Jon Snow was _not_ hers, but instead a madman who could care less about her. She shrugged as she really didn’t care about the glass; she was more interested in this Army of the Dead he claimed was her biggest threat.

“Give it to him. As you said, it’s useless to us. Maybe it will make him bend the knee,” Dany said flatly, her mind clearly elsewhere.

Tyrion nodded. “Wise decision, Your Grace. We shall inform him and his sister this morning—”

“What was that Ser Davos said about taking a knife in the heart for his people?” she asked curiously. The thought had been plaguing her mind ever since his Hand said it. _But he was standing there alive in front of her. It must’ve just been an exaggeration._

Tyrion pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Your Grace,” he responded honestly.

 _Interesting._ As if the King in the North was not intriguing enough, all his secrets drew her in more. _I want to uncover them all._

“Find out,” she demanded softly, not meeting Tyrion’s curious eyes as he stared at her. As they made their way into the throne room, Dany felt her silk dress drift delicately across the floor as the sound of their footprints echoed off the ancient walls. The silence was piercing, but Dany didn’t mind. She enjoyed the break from Tyrion’s wise words against Jon Snow as she allowed her mind to once again linger to him.

As she took her place once again on the cold, stone throne, she turned to Tyrion again to break the silence. “I plan to ask Arya Stark to rescue Ellaria Sand from your sister,” she stated, emphasizing the bitter reference to his sister.

Her Hand’s face fell at her unexpected announcement. “Your Grace—” he began to protest, but Dany shook her head.

“I will not hear it. I will not leave our allies subjected to Cersei’s torture,” she spat. “Arya is a Faceless Man; I am sure she has faced worse. She will not kill Cersei, only rescue Ellaria and her daughter. I think that is a fair trade for giving this dragonglass to a man I only just met.”  
After studying her face for a few moments, Tyrion softened. _He knows there’s no point in arguing with me. I won’t give in._ “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Dany nodded as she allowed her mind to drift back to the northern man who just wouldn’t escape her thoughts. _Get out of my head._ But as hard as she tried, that brooding expression of his kept creeping back to the point she sighed in frustration. Her nervous excitement at the thought of seeing his face again any moment made her start tapping her fingernails against the stone of the throne anxiously.

After a few more minutes drug by, she groaned. “Where is he? I’m tired of waiting,” she complained impatiently as she rolled her eyes, unable to relieve any of her anxiety.

But right as the words left her lips, the booming doors swung open and the King in the North stood in its wake along with his cheerful Hand. And she couldn’t hide the small smile that crossed her lips at seeing his face again.


	17. JON VII

As Jon walked into the throne room with Arya and Ser Davos at his sides, he forgot how to breathe when he saw the silver queen sitting in front of him. He felt his mouth go dry as heat spread through him, landing between his legs. _That dress._ The way it hugged her figure and gave him the most tempting peak at her full breasts… he had to take a moment to catch his breath. He couldn’t look away as hard as he tried, and he felt Arya nudge him to bring him back to reality. He shook his head in embarrassment. _I hope she didn’t realize I was gawking at her like a little boy._

She let out a small smirk. “Good to see you again, Jon Snow. Have you reconsidered bending the knee?”

Jon pursed his lips stubbornly. “No, I have not.”

He could see the anger flare up in her violet eyes. “Oh, well that is quite unfortunate,” she responded bitterly. “Considering your stance, I am afraid I cannot give you what you desire either. For if I pledged my armies to your war against these — dead men — how can I be certain you wouldn’t break our oath? That seems to be a pattern of yours, considering you broke faith with House Targaryen _and_ the Night’s Watch.”

The last insult was like getting stabbed by Olly all over again. His heart turned a shade of deep blue with sadness as his mind flared a burning red with anger. He could see Arya look his way with concern, knowing his temper was flaring. _She’s toying with you. Don’t give in. You’re a king._

However, before he could say something he’d regret, Davos saved him. “Your Grace,” he said hotly. “To be fair, you do not know the circumstances of that.”

A twinkle of curiosity lit up in Daenerys’ eyes as she looked from Davos to him. After a screaming silence, she sighed. “Perhaps. But how could I ever be certain if I do not know the truth? It would not be wise for the Queen to do such an action.”

Jon looked to the floor in frustration in an attempt to not go up and wipe that smirk off her beautiful face. _Gods, why am I such an idiot? Was last night merely a dream? I should’ve just told her the truth. Saving my people is more important than my pride…_

Never in his life had he ever wanted to fight and fuck someone as bad as Daenerys Targaryen. _She’s fucking maddening._

Sensing his discomfort, she relaxed her stiff demeanor. “But perhaps, there is an alternative.”

He exchanged looks with Davos. _Gods, what could this mean?_ “What do you propose, Your Grace?” he spat, unable to hide his obvious frustration.

She smiled, which only annoyed him further. “Arya Stark,” she said without taking her amethyst eyes off him. “My advisors tell me you are a Faceless Man.”

Jon relaxed a little. _I know where this is going._

She looked at him uncomfortably, and Jon nodded. “Aye,” she said with suspicion.

A fake smile returned to her pretty, plump lips. “One of my allies was taken prisoner by Cersei Lannister and is being kept in the dungeons at King’s Landing.”

Arya continued to stare icily at the Mother of Dragons to continue.

Daenerys sat up tall, as if to elevate her power over them even further. But instead of being scared, it intrigued him. _A confident woman who knows exactly who she is. A warrior queen._ And though the offer was concerning Arya, Daenerys only had eyes for Jon. “Arya Stark, I ask you to use your abilities as a Faceless Man to return Ellaria Sand from Cersei’s capture with whatever means necessary. You will be given any supplies and transportation needed,” she challenged him.

He straightened to portray false confidence. “And in exchange?” he responded strongly.

She pursed her lips. “In exchange, I will allow you to mine all of the dragonglass you speak of beneath this castle to fight your, what were they?”

His eyes widened with disbelief. _Could she be serious?_ But the lack of respect for his stories of the Army of the Dead were apparent in her language. _She thinks it’s a joke._ In consequence, he narrowed his eyes. “White Walkers.”

She smirked, further infuriating him at the fact she didn’t believe him. “Ah yes, _White Walkers_ ,” she tempted. Daenerys sat back comfortably. “Any men and supplies you will need will be provided for you.”

Jon turned to look at Arya. His sister looked for confirmation to accept. He looked up to Daenerys and studied her perfect face. _Can she be trusted?_ He tossed the idea around his head over and over before looking to Davos for nonverbal consultation, but he just shrugged. _How bloody helpful._ But Jon knew the winds of winter were howling, and they needed all the aid they could get to defeat what came with them.

After a moment of silence, Daenerys rolled her eyes. “Well?” she asked impatiently. “Do you agree to my terms?”

Arya shrugged. “It’s an easy job,” she whispered to him.

After a moment’s hesitation, Jon finally nodded and stood up tall. “Aye, I do.”  
She gave a fake smile, not like the warm one she gave him last night. “Very well,” she concluded. “You will need to prepare yourselves; you may leave.”

Disappointment flooded through him at her wanting his departure. _But I don’t want to leave._

He just gave a solemn nod as he turned around to follow Arya out of the hall. He exchanged looks with Davos, who just smirked at Jon’s unusually slow pace. _Call me back. Say you need one more thing. Don’t let me walk out of this room._

But he eventually hit the wooden doors her guards had opened for him. Sadness flooded through him; _did I push too far?_ He avoided Davos amused gaze as he proceeded down the hall to the outdoors. _I don’t feel like mining the dragonglass she mocks me for right now._

“Your Grace,” Davos suddenly said. “I believe the caves of dragonglass are the opposite direction.”

He nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. “I just want some air,” he said breathlessly. “I will meet up with you later.”

Even without looking at him, he could see his advisor’s amused smirk. “Ah, ‘some air,’” he mocked. “You enjoy that.”

And by patting him on the shoulder, he was off to the caves. Once Davos was out of sight, Jon leaned against the rusted railing desperately. _Gods, why do I have such shit luck with women?_ He cursed himself for another couple moments before he heard soft footsteps. His head perked up in surprise.

“Is there a particular reason for your lingering, Jon Snow?” he heard a familiar song sing to him.

He turned around to see none other than Daenerys Targaryen standing there. His heart swelled at the thought that she came after him. _No, she didn’t, you idiot. She’s just asking because you’re standing here creepily. You’re nothing. You’re not worth a single moment of her time._

He looked into her violet eyes with curiosity. “Do you believe me then?”

Confusion flashed across her delicate face. _Gods, I just want to hug her and never let her go._ “Believe you about what?” she asked.

“The White Walkers,” he reminded her gently. “You’re letting me mine the dragonglass. Does that mean you believe me?”

His heart filled with hope just to be crushed as she bit her lip, refusing to answer. But silence was an answer just the same. _She obviously thinks I’m a madman._

Upset, he ran his fingers through his raven curls. “You think I’m a liar, a complete madman,” he said a little more desperately than he had hoped. _And now’s when she turns and laughs in my face and says that I’m completely insane._ He braced himself for the pain of the insult as he looked at her nervously, trying to read her face. But it was the greatest mystery he ever faced.

She just continued to stare at him in curiosity. After a few moments of hesitation, she relaxed her tense muscles. “No, I don’t think you are either of those things.”

He looked up in shock at her words. _She doesn’t think I’m crazy? Does that mean I stand a chance of getting her aid for the war? A chance at… her?_

“Walk with me, Jon Snow,” Daenerys sang as she gestured for him to follow her.

His heart skipped a beat at her invitation and the chance of spending more time alone with her. _I don’t know how much longer I am going to last without doing something stupid._ She waited for him at the bottom of the hill to join her, and he hesitated. _But how can I ever say no to her?_ So, without a second thought, he began trailing down the path to begin his unplanned adventure with her around the island.

When he caught up to her, they walked in silence for a few minutes, just taking in the scenery. It was beautiful — the way the emerald-blue water crashing against the black shoulders of volcanic rock below them. As he took in the sight, he couldn’t help his eyes from wandering up and down her body without her knowledge. Gods, she was beautiful. And that _dress._ Though not as perfect as that silk one from the night before, to perform her Queenly duties, it was enough to enchant him completely. The way it hugged her full hips and arse, following her body as her tiny waist narrowed just to widen again for her breasts. And as if the shape of them wasn’t enough to a rush of blood in between his legs, the sight of her cleavage in the open V-neck dress made the urge to tear it off her overwhelming. Her beautiful silver hair, all braided unlike last night, was still just as gorgeous. But he liked seeing her without the fancy hair or dresses. Just as… _her._

He found himself staring a little too long as he suddenly looked away embarrassed. However, she didn’t seem to notice as she kept walking forward, her eyes on the ocean and her mind elsewhere. _Probably on another man. I wonder who she loves? Does she have someone waiting on her in Essos?_ His heart crushed at the thought of another man loving her, making her his wife, having his children. But it wasn’t right for him to ask these things of her, hell he barely just met her. _But I know enough that I don’t want anyone else enjoying them either._

He groaned internally at himself. _Gods, I need to calm down._

Luckily, her voice brought him back to reality. “So how did you even see these things you speak of anyways?” she asked suddenly, breaking his concentration.

“I was in the Night’s Watch. I saw and fought them north of the Wall,” he explained simply. _Doesn’t matter, she still won’t believe me._

She nodded as if she was interested in the conversation. Interested in _him_. “Why did Eddard Stark’s son join the Night’s Watch to begin with?” she asked curiously.

“Bastard son,” he corrected. _And only a bastard. I don’t deserve this throne. I don’t deserve to even be talking to her._

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Why did you join, Jon Snow?”

He looked at her in surprise. _Does my bastard status really not matter to her? Why does she care to know so badly?_ He studied her face to see if this was some sort of sick joke when she’d start laughing in his face like all the girls back in Winterfell growing up. But Daenerys Targaryen was not those stupid girls he once longed for in Winterfell, she was the bloody Queen. So, she held her gaze, expecting an answer.

He took a deep breath. “I had three trueborn brothers and two trueborn sisters. I knew I wasn’t going to inherit any titles or anything, so I thought I’d join the Watch to give my worthless life at least some meaning.”

He watched as she winced at him calling his life worthless. _Does she think I’m more than that?_ His heart began beating faster at just the thought.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Had?” she repeated.

 _Oh._ A sudden rush of sorrow flooded through him at the thought of Robb and little Rickon… how they died. _Why_ they died. _And yet, I’m still here, now talking to Daenerys Targaryen with a title I don’t deserve._ He felt Daenerys still staring at him, waiting for a response, before he got himself together enough to answer.

“Aye,” he replied finally. “When my father lost his head in King’s Landing, my brother Robb rebelled against the crown. They call it the War of the Five Kings — us against the Lannisters, the Baratheons against each other. Robb was winning before he was murdered at a wedding along with his pregnant wife and my lady mother. He was the first King in the North,” he remembered sadly. He took a shaky breath before continuing, “Rickon was shot in the heart with an arrow by the hand of Ramsay Bolton, my sister Sansa’s abuser, rapist and husband. I held him in my arms as he died.”

Shock fell over Daenerys’ face at what he just told her, followed by deep pain and sorrow. “I-I’m sorry; I didn’t know,” she replied softly, refusing to meet his gaze. “What about your other siblings?”  
Jon looked out to the blue sea. “Well Arya is fine; you’ve obviously met her. Sansa is… recovering. And no one has seen Bran in years, so he’s probably dead too,” he said bluntly.

She nodded solemnly. “I lost my brothers as well, Rhaegar and Viserys. One I’ve sworn to avenge, the other already got his justice for what he did to be growing up,” she said sadly.

_What does that mean?_

He stopped dead in his tracks as a horrible realization fell over him. When he looked her in the eyes, he could see hints of fear and vulnerability behind them. _Maybe she wasn’t a spoiled princess after all._ “He hurt you?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

The blood drained out of her face as she nodded, her eyes refusing to meet his as she continued walking, making him have to run to catch up. His heart twisted in sadness at the thought of a little girl with silver hair being tortured by her older brother. _If he wasn’t dead already, I would strangle him myself._

They walked in silence again, admiring the ocean blue surrounding them on the rocks. Something about this place made him feel at peace, feel at _home_. He felt her watching him curiously, which made him both blush and squirm at the same time. _Can she read my mind? Gods, I hope not._

“So, is that why you left the Night’s Watch?” Daenerys asked abruptly in an attempt to get more answers out of him. “To avenge your family?”

_Why does she have so many questions? Why does she care so much?_

He laughed as he remembered when he left Castle Black for that very reason before Sam and his friends brought him back. “No, that is not why, Your Grace.”

She nodded carefully. “I trust you know that I spent my life in Essos, so forgive me if I’m wrong on my Westerosi laws. But I thought that the Night’s Watch vows were taken for life?”

 _Fuck._ He shifted uncomfortably. “Aye, they are.”

She stopped before looking at him so intensely it was as if she was seeing right through his soul. It made his heart beat faster just watching her; _everything about her makes my heart beat faster._

But her soft voice tore him out of his daydream once again. “So how is it then a man of the Night’s Watch became King in the North?”

Jon felt his blood go cold as all the color drained from his face. _I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to tell anyone. My greatest betrayal… my biggest secret that houses my darkest demons. No one knows that story except those that were there._ He thought about the constant anxiety that haunts him, and the nightmares of Olly’s dead eyes staring at him.

He took a shaky breath. “T-That’s a long story, Your Grace,” he managed to croak. Desperate to change the conversation, he added, “How did you get three dragons?”

He could see in her eyes that his response wasn’t fulfilling enough for her, as she held his stare to say she demanded an actual answer. When he didn’t give one, her face finally softened as she began walking forward again. “I was given three stone dragon eggs as a wedding gift to my first husband, Khal Drogo. I dreamt that if I put them in a great fire, they would hatch. So, I climbed on top of my husband’s funeral pyre, and they hatched,” she stated simply.

He started laughing. _That’s completely ridiculous, there’s no way that is true._ But the serious look in her eyes told another story. His face fell in astonishment. “That’s completely mad,” he said in shock, staring at her like a deity. _She’s a miracle._

She let out a small laugh. “As mad as seeing White Walkers beyond the Wall? Or the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch breaking his vows to become King in the North?” she challenged.

_I broke more vows than just that. But how did she know I was Lord Commander? I never told her that…_

He furrowed his eyebrows. “How did you know I was Lord Commander?” he asked curiously.

If the winds weren’t strong off the cliffs of Dragonstone, he’d have sworn she was blushing. _But it’s just the cold._ “Lord Tyrion informed me,” she explained.

 _Lord Tyrion._ He rolled his eyes at the thought. He liked the dwarf, but he was surprised their meeting was Tyrion’s idea. _But I couldn't trust a Lannister. But perhaps he is different… and she was talking to him about me. Me, the Bastard of Winterfell._

He smiled slightly at the thought. “You’ve been talking to him about me?” Jon joked lightly.

However, she didn’t get the hint as she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “He is my Hand,” she said seriously… but then her face brightened, returning the smile. “I had to make sure you weren’t going to plan to murder me in my sleep.”

The thought made him chuckle. _No, I have other plans for you…_ but he swallowed to push those unrecognizable feelings back down to where they came. “So, I’m not?” he teased.

“Well, you are standing here, and I have no plans to execute you. Should I be worried?”

He looked up at her with joy in his eyes as he shook his head. _She trusts me?_

Daenerys looked at him with a curious look in her eye that he could not quite place. Almost… _attraction._ “He also told me that nothing safe is worth the ride.”

His mouth went dry as he remembered last night… the way she came to visit her. That dress. How close she was. The lavender scent of her hair. A flash of heat spread through him at the image, landing once again between his legs. He shifted in an attempt to relieve the tension.

A small smile escaped her lips again as he heard dragons roar above them. He ducked down reflexively, as if that would save him if they decided to roast him alive, and Daenerys laughed.

“They’re not going to harm you,” she said, a brief smile spreading from cheek to cheek. _Just like the one last night._ She suddenly leaned close and shrugged. “Unless I tell them to,” she said devilishly.

“Good thing you don’t have any plans to execute me then,” he said honestly.

She turned to face him. “Would you like to meet them?” she asked, a hopeful look in her eyes that made a surge of happiness spread through his veins.

He looked at her in surprise. “I—”

But he was silenced by the sound of footsteps. “My Queen, I hate to interrupt this intimate affair, but there’s been a raven,” Tyrion said from behind. They both turned to look at the Hand simultaneously, who had a reluctant look on his face. “It’s Lady Olenna.”


	18. JAIME I

“How many?”

“About 2,000 m’lord.”

Jaime nodded. “Let’s get them.”

The Lannister forces proceeded out of their makeshift camp they set up the night before to finally take down the Queen of Thorns for good. _And end House Tyrell._

They hide amongst the bushes on the side of the Roseroad and watched as the Tyrell carriage was carried further down the Roseroad. _“Kill Olenna,” Cersei said. “Kill Olenna, and they lose the Reach.”_ His sister’s words echoed through his mind as he felt all his men’s eyes on him, just waiting for the signal. He could hear the booming sound of his heartbeat in his ears in anticipation until he couldn’t stand it anymore. _I want to kill her for Cersei._

“NOW!” Jaime commanded.

And with that, all of the men sprung out of the bushes and ambushed the men surrounding the Tyrell carriage in an instant.

Jaime walked over the piles of dead Tyrell soldiers towards the carriage where Lady Olenna was supposedly hiding. The battle barely lasted ten minutes, for the small amount of men were no competition for the Lannister army. _If you can even call it a battle._

He took a deep breath as opened the carriage door confidently. _I will not fail Cersei this time._

“It's done?” an old voice asked without sadness.

He turned to recognize Lady Olenna sitting there with her hands placed neatly over her lap while dressed in all black. Jaime bowed in courtesy as he sat down across from her on the small seats. _I don’t know how the women can ride in these things. They’re dreadful._

Jaime nodded. “It is.”

She sighed. “And now the rains weep for our whores,” she said sarcastically.

Jaime pursed his lips at the snarky reference to the Lannister song. _Doesn’t she realize she’s lost? Why is she still smirking?_

His thoughts were broken by her voice again. “Did we fight well?” she asked, her tone evident she didn’t care.

He shrugged. “I suppose as well as can be expected with 2,000 men.”

She nodded. “It was never our forte. Golden roses indeed. Your brother and his new queen thought you would be defending Casterly Rock,” she explained, but her eyes told a different story.

“We don’t care about Casterly Rock anymore,” he confessed, equally as curious into what she was scheming. “My fond childhood memories won't keep Cersei on the throne.”

She smirked. “Ah, Cersei. It always has been about Cersei hasn’t it?”

He stared at her blankly. _Where is this going?_

Lady Olenna cleared her throat. “I did unspeakable things to protect my family, I admit,” she began to confess. “And I never lost a night's sleep over them. They were necessary to ensure the safety of House Tyrell. And I hope you realize that by killing me, House Tyrell will not go extinct. Ser Garlan still exists out there… somewhere.”

Jaime shrugged. _What’s the use of an unknown knight?_ “Everyone goes extra lengths when it comes to their family,” he responded. _Like how I risked setting Tyrion free when he was accused of killing Joffrey._

She nodded. “Yes, but you see, your sister has done things I wasn't capable of imagining. That was my prize mistake, a failure of imagination,” she explained calmly. “She's a monster, you do know that?”

He felt his mouth go dry out of anger. _They just don’t understand her._ “I can see why people think that. But after we've won and there's no one left to oppose us, the people will live peacefully in the world she built. Do you really think they'll wring their hands over the way she built it?” he challenged back.

She stared at him before rolling her old eyes. “You love her. You really do love her,” she said as if that were a bad thing. “You poor fool. She'll be the end of you.”

Another surge of anger shot through him. _She doesn’t understand. No one ever understands._ “Possibly,” he admitted, giving her some satisfaction. “Not much to be gained from discussing it with you though, is there?”

Her face lit up in fake surprise. “What better person to discuss it with? What better guarantee could you have that the things you say will never leave this carriage?” she offered.

Jaime sat there and pondered the notion. He could tell Lady Olenna was studying his face — ready to use any weakness he shows against him.

She finally sighed. “But perhaps you're right. If she's driven you this far it's gone beyond your control.”

A sting of uncharacteristic regret flooded through him. _Has she really completely consumed me? Of course, she has._ The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became.

But before he could answer, she narrowed her eyes. “She's a disease,” she emphasized. “I regret my role in spreading it. And one day you will too.”

Jaime thought for a moment as he sat there in the carriage with her. _What does he have to lose?_ Her eyes flickered with surprise as he cleared his throat.

“We’ve always been together,” he began passionately. “For as long as I can remember… We even shared a womb. I know everyone thinks it's unnatural, unorthodox—”

“A stain, I believe I told your father,” she added.

He glared before continuing. “—a _stain_. But it was the most natural thing in the world. It just…”

“Was so good that it can’t even be put into words?”

Fury spread through his veins at the sound of her mocking him. “My entire childhood was Cersei! My mother was dead. My father was always gone. What else could two children do? All we had was each other. And then we became curious as we got older and just kept… going,” he stated, as if he was embarrassed by the last part. _But surely he wasn’t, was he?_

Lady Olenna rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the torrid details,” she hissed. “But as you got older, you must have known it was wrong. It’s not love; it’s a compulsion.”

“Cersei’s had only my children,” he hissed in frustration. “ _Only_ mine. Even though if anyone found out, it meant death for us all. That’s devotion.”

“Well, it didn’t really work out well for Ned Stark when he found out, did he?” Lady Olenna challenged.

A ping of guilt deflected off his chest at the thought of his son beheading a seemingly honorable and _innocent_ man. _And while I hated him and the Starks, I had the utmost respect for the man._

His silence echoed loudly off the walls of the carriage as she studied his face as if he was one of Qyburn’s experiments.

“But all three of them were truly yours? Can you confirm that?” she asked, shifting from a mocking tone to one of more curiosity. “I knew Joffrey must be, the unbelievable horror of him, but—"

“All three,” he hissed through his teeth. _The fact she would even think otherwise. How could she not see Cersei loves me?_

“And all three died hideously,” she reminded him bluntly. “Has it ever occurred to you the gods did not approve?”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Fuck the gods,” he exclaimed passionately. “The gods never cared about us before. They made me fall in love with her and left me to it.”

She looked at him with amusement in her eyes. “Oh my, I am so sorry the gods have been so unfair to you! How must the peasants feel, I wonder?”

He grunted in frustration. “Don’t you think if I could have stopped loving Cersei I would have by now?” he roared.

Lady Olenna raised her eyebrows in surprise as his sudden outburst. “You really believe your own lies, don’t you?”

“I don’t lie,” he began to protest. “I have made oaths to Cersei that I’ve _kept_. To keep her—”

“—pretending to share your affection?”

His eyes narrowed. “To keep her _safe_ ,” he spat, his ears ringing with falseness. _But it’s not a lie, is it?_

She raised her eyebrows in protest.

Jaime let out a breath of frustration. “To keep her in power,” he amended.

“Because if she’s not in power she’d rather be dead,” Olenna says. “And if she’s dead, you’d rather follow her then remain in a world you helped destroy.”

Jaime stared at her — she was too satisfied with herself knowing she understood him completely. _But I will never give her the final satisfaction of admitting it._

She let out a sudden burst of laughter. “I’m trying to recall if you’re the biggest fool I’ve ever met. It would be quite a distinction, given how many fools I’ve endured, and how very long I’ve lived. And here you are, doing Cersei’s dirty work and allowing Daenerys Targaryen to take your ancestral home.”

_How did she know we knew their plans?_

He shook his head. “They won't be able to hold it,” he reassured mostly himself. 

“And you took your army, your real army, and went where they weren't?”

He smiled proudly. “As Robb Stark did to me at Whispering Wood. There are always lessons in failures.” _Father would be proud. I wish he were here to see this victory._

“Yes. You must be very wise by now,” she mocked.

Jaime forced a fake smile. “Father always said I was a slow learner.”

But Lady Olenna’s face suddenly turned into a wicked smile. “But I’m afraid not wise enough.”

He looked at her dumbfounded. _What was she talking about? All their scouts said they were headed for Casterly Rock. Surely that would be Tyrion’s first move to get revenge against their family…_

“You really think our Queen is stupid enough to send our armies exactly where we knew you’d expect us to go?” she asked seriously.

Jaime just continued to stare blankly.

Her lips formed a slight smirk before shaking her head. “No. That brother of yours has proven himself to be extremely useful. What good would it be for her to take Casterly Rock? There’s nothing there except dried shit and dust. You even admitted it yourself! What good is that when her allies control the food of the Reach and the wealth of Westeros?” she asked simply.

Realization fell across Jaime’s face. “They were never going to Casterly Rock…” he wondered aloud.

She shook her head. “No, idiot boy,” she mocked. “But I assume you are clever enough to know where they are going now?”  
His eyes widened as his throat went dry. “Highgarden,” he croaked out.

She smiled in confirmation. “Indeed. So, while _you_ have been playing the hero by murdering me for good measure, your men are about to get slaughtered by the thousands.”  
“We have thousands of men,” Jaime responded bitterly. _She simply cannot wipe out all our forces._

“My dear, what does an entire army stand a chance against three very large dragons?”

He just stared at an arbitrary point behind Lady Olenna’s head in the carriage; his mind racing about his stupidity. _Underestimating another enemy._

“So, you might as well get on with it,” she shrugged. “You will need to bring back some good news to Cersei, and you _may_ just have enough time to reach your men before the slaughter if you ride fast enough.”

_She knows I’m going to murder her?_ He eyed her suspiciously, but it seemed the old woman already accepted her fate. _Not much to live for once all of your family is dead._ So, Jaime straightened and prepared to unearth the little bottle Qyburn had given him to poison the Queen of Thorns.

He could feel her eyes on him, watching intently.

“How will it happen?” she asked, almost bored with the situation.

The tone made him clench his fist in anger. _Maybe I should’ve let her whip her through the streets._ “Cersei had several ideas,” he began as he continued to search his pockets. “Whipping you through the streets and beheading you in front of the Red Keep. Flaying you alive and hanging you from the walls of King's Landing. I talked her out of those.”

And for the first time in their discussion, Lady Olenna looked up at him in surprise as he took out the small vial. He popped the cork off with his thumb before pouring its deadly contents into an empty wine glass on the table.

“Will there be pain?” she asked without a hint of fear in her voice.

He shook his head. “No. I made sure of that.”

She gave an authentic smile. _At least as authentic as the Queen of Thorns could give._ “That's good.”

That was when — without hesitation — Lady Olenna grasped the cup and drank all its contents in one gulp. Jaime widened his eyes in surprise again. _I didn't think she’d be so eager to die._ He eyed her suspiciously again as she licked her lips free of the remaining wine as she smiled all too happily. _Too happy for someone who is dying._

“I'd hate to die like your son clawing at my neck, foam and bile spilling from my mouth, eyes blood red, skin purple. It must have been horrible for you as a Kingsguard, as a father. It was horrible enough for me. A shocking scene,” she began.

The painful memory of his firstborn dying so horrifically still haunted him to that day. _Even if he deserved it._ He just continued to stare at Lady Olenna in confusion — _where was she going with this?_

“Not at all what I intended. You see, I'd never seen the poison work before,” she remarked slyly.

Jaime’s eyes widened as the words began to ring meaning in his brain. _She’s the one…_

The Queen of Thorns looked up at him devilishly. “Tell Cersei,” she smiled. “I want her to know it was me.”

Jaime’s vision went red as he had an overwhelming urge to beat her to death right there and then. _Wipe that smug look off her fucking face._ But it was no use. _She was already dying… and I need to get to my men._ All he could feel was the blood rushing through his veins as his face twisted in pure anger and hatred towards the woman he asked _mercy_ for. _What a mistake that was._ He took one last look at her sinister smile before stepping out of the carriage — slamming the door behind him.

He walked furiously through the piles of dead Tyrell soldiers to meet Bronn and the rest of his commanding officers.

“What the fuck happened?” Bronn suddenly asked, reading his clear expression of rage.

Jaime shook his head, unable to speak about what he just learned. _We need to get to Highgarden._ “We need to go to Highgarden. _NOW_!”


End file.
